Put Me Back Together
by Squeeka Cuomo
Summary: All it takes is one moment to break Kurt apart. How many will it take to put not only himself but Puck back together?
1. Kiss Me Goodbye

**Put Me Back Together  
Chapter 1: Kiss Me Goodbye**

"_Here, it's clear, that I'm not getting better.  
When I fall down, you put me back together." – Put Me Back Together (Weezer)  
_

Safely tucked into the table before his vanity mirror, Kurt heaved a very tired sigh. And as he looked at his reflection, he couldn't help but thank whoever was listening that the Buckeye Civic Auditorium was only thirty minutes from Lima. If it had been much farther, they might have had to stay in a hotel overnight.

And after the day he'd had, after everything that had happened, Kurt didn't know if he'd have been able to handle being stuck in a hotel room with some randomly chosen roommate.

As it was, even the ride home had been tense.

Once they'd boarded the bus to head back home, Kurt had settled into a window seat with Mercedes on the other side of him. He'd crossed his arms over his chest and pressed his forehead against the cool window. It hadn't been five minutes into the drive that he'd felt a bone deep tiredness overtake his slender body.

Up till that point, he'd been running on an intoxicating mixture of nerves and adrenaline. But once it had worn off, Kurt had wanted nothing more than to be home with his father, safely ensconced in the safe haven that was his basement bedroom.

And now that he was there, all Kurt could do was look at himself in the mirror as the day's events replayed in his mind. But no matter how many times he went over everything, there was one thing, one moment that was more important than all of the rest.

Surprisingly enough though, it wasn't the five minutes he'd spent on the stage singing or the ten-minute trophy presentation ceremony that was haunting his thoughts.

No, it was something, _someone_ else altogether.

It was something that had left a mark on his soul, even if he could see no evidence of it in the mirror.

Staring into the smooth surface, a soft cloth band pushing back his bangs, Kurt turned his face from side to side. He didn't know why, but for some reason, Kurt expected to look different. But his eyes were still clear blue and his skin porcelain white.

Still unable to believe that he looked the exact same way he had that morning, Kurt pressed his fingers to his lips. As he did, his eyes locked on his own in the glass. And as he searched his gaze for something, _anything_ that was different, his thoughts flickered back to what had happened after their performance for the millionth time that day…

When they'd originally thrown together their last minute rendition of "You Can't Always Get What You Want," they'd decided to split down the middle and exit through the right and left wings of the stage. But when the time had come, everyone had been so pumped up and excited that they'd all rushed towards the right wing.

Everyone except for Artie and Brittany that was. Artie had gone left so that he could use the handicap ramp. Brittany had gone left because… well, just because.

Once they'd been all off stage and hidden in the darkness of the corridor, they'd all begun to jump up and down. The euphoria had even turned into hooting and hollering as they'd hugged and patted one another on the back. They'd knocked it out of the park, and they'd known it. Win or lose, they'd put on an amazing performance that had caused New Directions to become a dangerous tangle of limbs that never seemed to end.

And in the midst of everything, all of the hugging and cheering, a strong hand had wrapped around Kurt's wrist.

At first, he'd thought it was Mercedes trying to get his attention. But as the hand had begun to insistently tug at his arm, Kurt had realized that he was wrong. The mystery hand had been too large to be his best friend's, the grip too tight as well. And as the fingers had tightened, he'd realized that it could only be a boy.

The second he'd realized that, Kurt had thought of Finn. After Kurt had fallen for him, he'd started studying the other boy's hands. He'd watched as Finn tried to copy Rachel's ballet fingers or worked to perfect his grip on a football. His hands were large with wide palms and long fingers, and Kurt loved them.

And he'd often thought about twining his own slender fingers through Finn's, of how wonderful it would feel to have their palms pressed tightly together. And no matter what scenario he'd envisioned for them, whenever they held hands, Finn would always stroke his thumb over the back of Kurt's hand.

Even though it had seemed so completely impossible that the person holding his wrist was Finn, Kurt hadn't been able to stop himself from hoping, wishing that it was him. And the second Kurt had allowed a tiny drop of that hope to seep into his veins, his heart had sped up, beating uncontrollably at the thought.

The faster his heart had raced, the more desperate he'd become to find out if Finn were the one holding onto him. He'd squinted his eyes, trying to see through the darkness of the corridor and the tangled sea of limbs.

But it had been of no use. The hallway had been too small, too crowded.

And more importantly, too dark.

And so, the next time the hand had tugged at his wrist, he'd gone with it willingly.

Allowing himself to be pulled, Kurt had squeezed through the crowd, unable to tell who was patting him on the back or squeezing his shoulders. Some had even dared to mess up his perfect bangs. And for the first time in his life, Kurt hadn't cared that people were rumpling his ever-perfect coif.

He'd been too engrossed in what had been happening to care. Too busy hoping that, when he finally came face to face with the person, he'd find Finn's sweet face smiling down at him in the darkness.

But even though he'd moved closer to the brightly lit stage and there was a small pool of light in the entrance to the wing, Kurt still hadn't been able to make out any more than a vague outline of a tall boy.

It had seemed too good to be true, too perfect. But Finn was single, and they'd just brought the audience to their feet, and at that moment, Kurt had felt as if absolutely anything were possible.

And desperately clinging to the hope that he was face to face with the boy of his dreams, Kurt had tried to come up with something to say. But as the hand around his wrist had pulled him closer, Kurt had stopped thinking and given himself over to feeling instead.

And the next thing Kurt knew, there had been lips pressed against his own for the first time in his life. It had been merely a feathery brush of skin against skin, but it had sent his heart racing as every nerve in his body had cried out for more.

But just as quickly as the kiss had begun, it had been over; the mystery person had pulled away. And desperate to hold onto the moment for as long as possible, Kurt had reached out and grabbed a hold of the other boy's tie, still wishing beyond hope that it really was Finn.

The effect of his move had been instantaneous. The other boy had dropped his wrist and stepped closer, placing his hands so very gently on Kurt's waist. Slowly, they'd slid around Kurt's back, stopping once to grip his belt before settling in the curve of his lower back. And when they finally did, it had felt as if they belonged there.

And very carefully, afraid that if he were to move too quickly the other boy would go running, Kurt had placed his free hand on the chest before him.

Under his palm, there had been a gently pounding heartbeat, and Kurt couldn't help but marvel at the steadiness of it as his own raced on. Finn, because it _had_ to be Finn, had been so calm, so in control. There had been no awkwardness or shyness in the boy before him.

And as much as Kurt had loved that calm control, it had felt wrong, out of character. Finn, as much as he loved him, reminded Kurt of a hummingbird. Quick and easily distracted, the other boy was hard to pin down. But he'd tried to ignore it, to forget that Finn tended to be a little jittery and that he was never bold about his choices.

Desperate to ignore what his gut was telling him, Kurt had pushed the thought aside. He hadn't wanted to think or rationalize. He'd just wanted to feel that soft mouth on his again and that steady beating under his palm.

He'd looked up and tried to search the dark for any track of Finn's features again, and as he did, one of those strong hands had left his lower back. The loss of contact had sent a shiver through his body, and he'd wanted to protest. But before he could, before he'd known what was happening, Kurt's bangs had been brushed back softly, gently.

Kurt had leaned in to the touch, wanting more. But as soon as his hair had been straightened, the hand had returned to his waist. Once again, he'd searched the darkness for any sign of the person before him. But all Kurt had been able to make out had been a vague outline.

However, the next moment, that had no longer mattered. The hands at his waist had tightened their grip once, twice before those full lips had been on his once again.

And for one blissful moment, Kurt had been lost, caught up in a delirious wave of sensation, before reality had tried to creep back in once again. The mouth on his, so gentle and encouraging as it had pressed small, encouraging kisses to Kurt's lower lip, had been painfully soft. And Finn's mouth… his lips… were thin.

But despite what his heart had been telling him, Kurt had kissed back, praying that his nerves weren't obvious. Because for once, Kurt hadn't felt like a fierce diva. He'd no longer been oozing confidence or arrogance. Instead, he'd felt like a sixteen-year-old boy who was receiving his first kiss from someone completely hidden from him.

When the lips on his had parted ever so slightly, Kurt had let go of the necktie still clutched in his right hand. And the moment he'd been free of the thin strip of fabric, he'd trailed his hand up the other boy's chest. As his hand had slid over the soft cotton, exploring the contours beneath, Kurt's brain had fought to take over, to break through the blissful bubble of unknown sensation around him.

And even though he'd tried to fight it, his brain had begun pouring out all of the things he'd been trying to ignore…

Lips that were too full.

A chest that was too muscular.

A body that was too short.

A heartbeat that was too steady.

It had all been there, and his brain had known what his heart simply refused to believe. Kurt's mind had been screaming out that the other boy wasn't Finn, and he'd tried so hard to deny it. But he no longer could.

He'd wanted so badly to hold onto the idea that it was Finn, could be Finn, that he'd ignored his still screaming mind as he'd parted his own lips in response.

But the strangest thing had been that it had no longer mattered to Kurt that he didn't know who was holding him.

And when he'd felt the lips under his brush gently against his own again, Kurt had slid his hand up to the base of the other boy's scalp.

The moment his fingertips had slid over shaved skin and his palm had pressed against an all too familiar strip of hair, the world had fallen apart around Kurt.

The cheering of the rest of the glee club had disappeared so abruptly it had been almost as if someone had hit the off button on their iPod. And in the absolute silence, the only thing Kurt could hear had been the rapid-fire pounding of his heart as his blood had rushed through his ears.

He'd frozen, terror and confusion quickly overtaking him.

Struggling to push down the dizzying array of emotion, Kurt had tried to speak, tried to say the one thing that had kept going through his brain:

Why?

It was only one word, but it had covered so many things…

Why _me_?

Why _now_?

Why _here_?

Just… _why_?

But before he'd been able to say anything, Mercedes had grabbed him around the waist and pulled him back into the sea of celebrating kids. Puck had let him go, not trying to hold onto him. And as his best friend had dragged him out of the wing, Kurt had searched the darkness for Puck's face.

But it had been impossible.

The moment had been over over, swallowed up by the never-ending blackness of the stage wing.

Just as the scene finished playing out in Kurt's mind, he dropped his hand from his mouth. But instead of looking away, he continued to stare at his reflection. He continued to try and find something in his face that hadn't been there that morning.

"Hey, Kurt. I just wanted to say goodnight and congratulations again." Burt's voice pulled Kurt out of his thoughts of Puck's lips against his own. Taking his eyes away from his own reflection, he saw his dad standing on the stairs looking down at him in the mirror.

Slowly, he turned and looked up at his father. "Thanks, Dad. I wish you could have been there today." And he really did. As much as he loved having his father cheer him on at the football games, Kurt really wanted his dad to see him sing.

"Me too, Kurt. But I couldn't find anyone to take over the shop today." Burt looked down at him apologetically. Kurt knew he'd tried; they'd both tried actually. In the end, there was just no way Burt could get away for a whole day. "But you had someone tape it for me, right?" Burt's voice was sincere.

"Of course. The film club was more than happy to actually have something to do for a change." Despite the mess in his head, Kurt smiled a little before remembering something. "Oh, the party?"

"Yep, that's fine. So long as you guys don't tear up the house." Even though he was being serious about his home, Burt smiled at his son. "I'm really happy you've made some friends, Kurt."

Kurt dropped his eyes slightly, choosing to look at his dad's feet instead of his face. Not because of his father's comment about him finally having friends, because that didn't bother him at all. But as his dad looked down at him, so obviously making an effort to be supportive, Kurt wished he could tell him about what had happened with Puck and how it made him feel.

However, as much as he wanted to talk about it with his dad, he just couldn't. Because as difficult as it was for his dad to deal with things like talking about boys, it was just as hard for Kurt. After sixteen years of trying to hide who he was from the one person who meant the most to him, Kurt was having a hard time adjusting to being fully himself around his dad. Deep down, Kurt knew that eventually things would be easier, but it was going to take some time.

And so, Kurt just nodded before meeting his father's gaze once again. "We won't." Kurt tried to smile at his father, but he knew he hadn't managed much more than a grimace.

It was a detail Burt didn't miss.

"Is everything ok? You've been acting strange since you got home." He looked down at his son suspiciously, and Kurt did everything he could do not to squirm in his seat.

"Yeah, Dad. I'm fine. It's just been a _very_ long and stressful day." Kurt forced himself not to look away from his dad. "Really, I'm fine."

"Alright." Burt nodded, though he didn't look convinced. "Well, I'm here if you want to talk, ok?"

"Yes. Thank you." Once again, Kurt tried to smile at his dad, tried to project an air of calmness. And even though Burt was still eyeing him suspiciously, he nodded before turning and walking back up the steps. "Really, thank you. I… I appreciate that."

Burt stopped and turned around once again. He didn't say anything else about the subject. Instead, he just nodded at his son before telling him goodnight once again.

When Kurt was alone, he turned back to the mirror and his own blue eyes. He'd told his father he was fine. Though really, he was anything but.

Kurt was deeply in love with Finn, but the kiss with Puck…

No. He wouldn't let his thoughts go down that road. He _couldn't_ let his thought go down that road.

Pressing his lips together to the point of pain, Kurt tore his eyes away from his own reflection. He wasn't fine, and part of him felt chipped, cracked, as if he were broken ever so slightly.

And as he flipped off the vanity light, Kurt could only hope that the wound, whatever it was, would heal soon.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- Quack: Thank you so much for all of your help. From the betaing to the banner and all of the times you've listened to me rant and rave. I appreciate it all. :duck:  
- Reviews are love.


	2. Of Soirees and Sarongs

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 2: Of Soirees and Sarongs**

When Kurt walked into WMHS on Monday morning, he expected…. Well, to be honest, he didn't really know _what_ to expect. Yes, New Directions had won at sectionals, but really… that didn't mean much. After all, the glee club was still considered to be pretty lame. (Though on the school's cool club ladder, it had managed to climb a step above The Renaissance Club.) So it wasn't like he expected people to throw themselves at him like they had the Monday after football team finally won a game.

As for Puck…

Kurt had tried to push any thoughts of what had happened in the wing to the back of his mind. He'd tried to forget the feel of the other boy's hands on his waist and in his hair, tried to completely erase the feel of Puck's full lips against his own from his memory. Because as much as he'd enjoyed the kiss itself, he couldn't handle that it had been Puck he'd shared it with.

And for the most part, it had worked.

When he'd woken up on Sunday morning, Kurt's first thought had been of Puck. But the second he'd rolled out of bed, his dad had come into his room asking if he could help out at the shop even though it was his day off. So the rest of the day Kurt had been too occupied with phone calls, minor repairs, and food runs to think about anything other than engines and jelly-filled donuts. And that night had been taken over by a bio lab write up and an essay for English due the next day that he hadn't even started yet.

So, for the most part, his thoughts had been blissfully Puck-free.

But when he walked into school on Monday morning and saw Puck laughing with Mike and Matt, it all came rushing back with so much force that Kurt would have swore that Puck's lips were pressed against his own at that moment. And as the feelings and sensations ran through his body all over again, Kurt felt his heartbeat speed up and a blush begin to creep up the back of his neck.

He was so frozen by the memory that it wasn't until the bell rang for first period that Kurt was finally able to move. And when he could, he took off in the opposite direction of his class, pushing past everyone until he ran smack into a very tall, thin body.

Pushing himself back a little, Kurt looked up and up until he met Finn's warm brown eyes.

"Finn." Kurt's voice was soft, barely a whisper, but those four little letters somehow managed to feel like an absolute truth in a world full of lies. And when Finn placed his strong hands on Kurt's shoulders to steady him, he felt all of his tension and anxiety melt away. Almost instantly his breathing returned to normal as his flush receded.

"Hey, Kurt. Going somewhere?" Finn was laughing softly as he set Kurt back on his feet. As Finn continued to smile down at him, all thoughts of Puck and the kiss they'd shared disappeared from Kurt's thoughts. It was, after all, only a kiss in the dark. Nothing more. And when he thought about it more rationally, Kurt realized that Puck probably hadn't even known whom he was kissing. It had been _so_ dark that Puck had probably thought he was grabbing Quinn.

And as he continued to stare up at Finn, all traces of Puck slipped from his mind. The kiss was just a kiss, no longer a monumental affair. And it no longer mattered that Puck had been the one he'd shared it with. Sure, it had been Puck's lips, and his hands, but…

Kurt had been thinking of Finn, wishing and hoping that he was the one who was kissing him. And he still wished that that had been the case because Finn was good and sweet. Unlike Puck who had never been anything but an arrogant self-absorbed jerk towards him. And Kurt had no desire to start believing that Puck had any hidden depths after all of the times he'd been tossed in the dumpster by him.

So, with all thoughts of Puck and their kiss pushed to the deepest recesses of his subconscious, Kurt gave Finn a shy smile. "Why yes, actually. I'm on my way to Spanish. Want to walk me there?" Deep down, Kurt knew it was dangerous to flirt with Finn, but he just couldn't stop himself.

"Uh, sure." Finn just smiled at him good-naturedly. He'd either missed Kurt's flirty tone or chosen to ignore it. (He was pretty sure it was the former.) Either way, Kurt was practically beaming as they headed off towards first period together.

After first period was over, Finn surprised Kurt by walking over to him as he was leaving Mr. Schuester's classroom. But his joy was short lived because just as they stepped out into the hall together, Puck walked by. He quickly gave Finn an apologetic look before dropping his mohawk-ed head and rushing into the crowd of milling students.

He wanted to move, to continue on their way to second period, but the change in the boy next to Kurt was instantaneous. He could feel the tension radiating off of the normally happy boy.

Looking up at Finn, Kurt was taken aback by the hurt and anger he saw on the other boy's face. His features, usually so open and readable, had closed down. The twinkle was gone from Finn's eyes, and the corners of his mouth were pulled downward. He wanted to say something, wanted to do something that would wipe away the obvious pain, but he didn't get a chance.

"Look, I don't know if anyone has told you or not… I just found out in a note Brittany passed me, but Rachel wants everyone to meet in the choir room during lunch. Something about putting together something for Mr. Schu." Finn sounded upset, and Kurt could hardly blame him. "Umh, I gotta go. My next class is in the next wing, and I'm gonna be late." Without waiting for Kurt to respond, Finn turned and pushed his way down the hall, leaving Kurt there to stare after him.

The rest of the morning, Kurt ignored Puck, trying to act as normal and nonchalant as he possibly could.

For the most part, ignoring Puck was par for the course for Kurt. But now, whenever he would pass Puck in the hallway, Kurt would become painfully aware of where he was and what he was doing. It was almost as if all eyes were on him. And normally he would have _killed_ to garner that type of attention. But now, he wanted nothing more than to run and hide.

And the thing that shocked him the most was that Puck didn't even seem to notice his presence. But that little fact didn't catch his attention - not because he _wanted_ Puck to notice him, but rather because Puck _always_ managed to find him in a crowded hallway or busy parking lot. And for him to outright ignore Kurt was just strange.

When lunchtime rolled around, Kurt made his way to the choir room thoroughly irritated with Rachel for calling the impromptu glee session. It was Chinese food day in the caf', and he was hungry. He'd thought of stopping by and grabbing a bowl of lo mein before heading to the classroom. But when he saw Puck at the slushie machine, right inside the cafeteria door, he quickly changed his mind.

It was with a lot of anger bubbling up inside of him that Kurt kept on walking past the cafeteria. He was irritated with Rachel and Puck. And he was upset about how the delicious smells of noodles, fried rice, and orange chicken seemed to be teasing him as they wafted from the kitchen. And because of all that, Kurt meandered through the hallway taking his sweet time. If he wasn't going to get to eat, he certainly wasn't going to rush off to do Rachel's bidding.

And when he reached the door to the choir room, Kurt regretted each and every leisurely step he'd taken. Because Puck, grape slushie in hand, had managed to arrive at the exact same time he did.

Kurt barely suppressed an eye roll as Puck walked up by him. Kurt expected Puck to push past him and most likely slop some of his sugary drink all over his white leather oxfords. But, much to Kurt's surprise, Puck quit walking as well, eyeing Kurt almost as if he were expecting something.

"What?" Kurt's normally soft voice barked out. He was hungry and cranky and _really_ didn't feel like dealing with Puck.

"Geez, Hummel. PMS-ing? You gonna go in or what?" Puck's dark eyes surveyed him as he took a deep draw from his drink, wrapping his lips around the straw.

As Kurt stared at Puck, a light flush stole over his neck and the tips of his ears. He wanted to respond, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Kurt suddenly remembered the feel of Puck's lips against his. And it didn't help that Puck's lips were puckered around the straw, giving a picture to what he'd only been able to imagine in the darkness.

When his eyes flickered involuntarily to Puck's mouth, the blush that had been minimal a second ago quickly took over his entire face. The sight caused Puck to laugh around the straw that he was clutching between his teeth. And before Puck could say (or do) anything else, Kurt threw his head back and stomped into the classroom, the other boy's chuckle echoing behind him.

Other than that, the lunch rehearsal went well enough. Rachel even bribed Jacob Ben Israel into brining them all something to eat. (What the price was Kurt _did not_ want to know.) And for the most part, Puck kept his distance, choosing instead, to try and get back into Quinn's good graces by chatting with her. (It didn't seem to work though.) They brushed past each other as they danced, but that was it.

Nothing more.

But when it came to the actual glee rehearsal after school and they all stood up to greet Mr. Schuester, Puck managed to end up standing right next to him. Kurt pointedly kept his eyes on Schu, but even though he was focusing on the teacher, he could feel Puck's gaze on his face from time to time. He longed to look over and ask Puck what he wanted, but he just couldn't bring himself to.

Thankfully Kurt didn't have to keep his attention glued to the teacher for long as they quickly broke apart to perform the number they'd prepared during lunch. They'd put it together fast, but it went surprisingly well. Even if he did get a little to caught up in his "Single Ladies" moment.

When it was all over and everyone took their seats, Kurt grabbed a small stack of flyers out of his bag and headed towards the front of the room.

Mr. Schuester, noticing what Kurt was doing, called the room to order. "Ok guys, listen up. Kurt has something he wants to say." He'd asked Schu about making his announcement earlier, and Kurt was happy to see that he hadn't forgotten.

Smiling at Schu, Kurt said thank you as he placed the stack of blue papers on top of the piano. When he turned back around, Kurt couldn't help but take note of the faces looking back at him expectantly. Rachel was sitting in the very middle of the front row looking ridiculously attentive. Her brown eyes were wide and bright, like that of an owl, and her hands were folded neatly on top of her lap. Sitting at the end of the front row was Quinn; her eyes were downcast as she rubbed her stomach. In the back row, Matt and Mike were watching him, but not really, as they punched each other on the shoulder. And sitting on the far end of the front row were Mercedes and Finn who looked merely curious. Everyone else was paying attention with varying degrees of interest.

But, out of everyone in the room, Puck was the only one who was truly _watching_ him.

And the other boy's gaze was so intense, so focused, that Kurt could barely stand it.

Puck's dark eyes made him feel transparent, as if his deepest and darkest secrets were being put on display in front of the entire glee club. Kurt tried to look away from him, to hide what little of himself he could, but before he had a chance, Puck met his eyes. And for just a second, their gazes locked, deep brown eyes boring into clear blue ones. And even though it tied Kurt's stomach in knots, he couldn't look away, couldn't pull himself out of the murky depths of Puck's stare.

If it weren't for Mr. Schuester pointedly clearing his throat, Kurt didn't know if he'd have been able to look away. And when the sound hit his ears, he blinked and shook his head a little, trying to clear his mind of the feeling of Puck's eyes on his own. When he looked back at the rest of the glee club, he saw Mercedes staring at him with a look of utter confusion on her face.

And he couldn't help but wonder… If Mercedes and Mr. Schuester had noticed, who else had?

Quickly looking around the room again, Kurt practically sighed in relief when he saw that no one seemed to have seen. Rachel was eyeing the stack of flyers he'd placed on the piano eagerly, and Mike and Matt had moved onto texting. And Finn's eyes were flickering between Quinn and Puck even though they were sitting at opposite ends of the room.

Feeling slightly more confident that no one had seen anything, Kurt placed his hand on hip and smiled out at his peers. "In honor of our victory at Sectionals -" Kurt was cut off as a loud chorus of cheers and applause broke out. The explosion of sound, rather than increase his fears, bolstered his confidence. "I'm hosting a little soiree-"

"Wait, isn't that a little wraparound skirt to go over a bathing suit?" Brittany's airy voice stopped Kurt mid-sentence.

"No, Brittany. That's a sarong." He couldn't help the tiny bit of annoyance that slipped into his voice.

The confusion was evident on Brittany's face, and next to her, Santana was rolling her eyes. "Oh. But then what's a swar-"

But before Kurt could respond, Puck spoke up. "It's a party, Einstein." Kurt was amazed that not only had Puck spoken up but that he sounded just as irritated as he felt. He wanted to look over, to see the expression on Puck's face, but after what had happened before, Kurt didn't trust himself.

So, before anyone could say anything else, Kurt spoke again. "Like I was saying, I'm hosting a _party_." He looked directly at Brittany who smiled happily. "It will be at my house this Saturday night, and I'll be showing a video of Sectionals."

When everyone started to smile and chatter about the upcoming get together, Kurt felt his confidence rise even more. But before he could finish his announcement, Finn spoke up.

"Will there be food?" He sounded hopeful, and Kurt couldn't help but wonder why he was always so focused on eating. And from the look on Mercedes face, she was wondering the exact same thing.

"Yes, of course. There will be refreshments." Kurt made a mental note to ask his dad if he could call in a favor with his uncle who owned a local pizzeria.

When Finn smiled at him and nodded, Kurt felt a flush creeping up the back of his neck. And in an effort to stave it off, he quickly looked over to Mercedes who was clearly trying not to laugh. Taking a deep breath, Kurt tore his eyes off of Finn and his best friend. "And you're _all_ invited." Kurt looked at every kid in the room in an effort to let them all know that they really were invited (even Rachel).

But when he got to Puck, Kurt stopped short, not able to look him in the eye again.

And to makes matters worse, he could feel Puck's eyes boring into him from across the room.

"Umh…" The feel of Puck's eyes on him caused Kurt to stutter and wish he were safely tucked into his seat rather than standing in front of the class. "The flyers I put on the piano have all of the information you'll need. The time, directions to my house, and… and my cell number." Kurt didn't know why, but he felt embarrassed admitting that his number was on the small pieces of paper in front of Puck. And the fact that he'd put his number on the invitations shouldn't have. After all, Puck meant nothing to him. Kiss or not.

Without saying anything else, Kurt rushed forward, taking the open seat next to Mercedes. But rather than sit up straight, he slouched down just a bit, hoping to blend into his seat. But even though he was safely hidden next to his best friend, Kurt still felt as if he were being watched. But when he peeked around the girl next to him, Puck was staring at the illuminated screen of his cell phone.

"Kurt, _what_ is with you?" Mercedes' voice was barely above a whisper, but Kurt could still sense her irritation. "And _why_ didn't you tell me about the party? I could have helped you plan it."

Mr. Schuester was now walking around the room, a stack of sheet music in his hand, so Kurt had to wait for him to pass by before he could respond. When he could finally speak, his voice was equally low and irritated. "Nothing. I… I'm fine. And I had to talk to my dad about the par…" Kurt didn't get to finish, because Schu asked everyone to get up and divide into pairs. He and Mercedes didn't even bother asking one another if they wanted to be partners. Instead they just stood together still trying to whisper about the party.

When rehearsal finally ended, Kurt lagged behind to see if anyone would pick up the flyers he'd made. And for the most part, everyone did. The only ones that didn't were the ones like Brittany, Tina, and Mercedes who already knew where he lived.

And watching the kids he'd come to think of as his friends pick up the invitations put a smile on Kurt's face. Over the past few months he'd grown closer to the motley bunch that made up New Directions, but it wasn't until that moment that he realized how much they meant to him.

After everyone left the room, Kurt gathered up his things and grabbed the remaining flyers off of the piano. When he walked out of the choir room and into the hallway, he was surprised to find that it was completely deserted except for one person.

A few feet down the hall, Puck was poking around in his locker, a small blue flyer sticking out of his back pocket.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- I owe a HUGE thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. So… thank you, thank you, thank you. I appreciate it more than I can say. :duck:  
- Silver Arrow: No, this does't take place in the same universe as "While You're Dancing." But I agree that if it did, that would make for some interesting plot twists. That said… I do have some other twists in mind. :)  
- Quack: Thank you so much. I really couldn't do this without you. And more importantly, I wouldn't want to.  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	3. Not So Subtle

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 3: Not So Subtle**

"Hey there, Kurt. Come on in." Miss Pillsbury's sounded distracted, and her large brown eyes were trained on something just behind him. And even though Kurt was pretty sure he knew what he'd see, he turned his head to look. When his gaze landed on Mr. Schuester waving at the guidance counselor, Kurt just rolled his eyes and took the seat before her desk.

"Why don't you have a seat?" Even though Schu _must_ have been gone by then, Miss Pillsbury continued to stare lovingly at the place where he'd been.

When she finally turned back to him, her eyes went wide (or wider rather) at the sight of Kurt before her desk. "Oh, look at that. You're already…" She paused to adjust one of the perfectly sharpened number two pencils lying on her desk. "Already sitting."

Kurt just nodded at her, pushing down a snarky comment about pointing out the obvious. And when she didn't say anything else, Kurt looked around her office in an effort to look anywhere but at Miss Pillsbury. And what he found surprised him.

Her plants were in different spots, and her bookshelves looked like they'd been reorganized. For the most part, her desk looked the same, but there was still something off about it. And he doubted he would have noticed it, but her office _never_ changed. When he couldn't take the silence anymore, Kurt looked back at Miss Pillsbury. "Your office looks different from the last time I was here."

The last time he'd made a trip to her office had been the day after he'd vomited all over her shoes. And as he thought about it, Kurt was surprised that he could remember _anything_ from that day at all. He'd still felt sick, and as if his head were going to explode, and he'd spent most of the meeting trying to hold down the coffee he'd managed to drink before school.

"Yes, well, packing and un-packing will do that." Miss Pillsbury's voice was matter-of-fact, and when she noticed the confused look on Kurt's face, she quickly changed the subject. "Anyway… I sent for you, that's to say, I called you here because…" She smiled a little at Kurt as she folded her hands on top of the desk. "Will, I mean, Mr. Schuester said that there seemed to be something, like, a problem. Or… or maybe even something else going on between you and Mr. Puckerman during glee practice on Monday."

At that moment, if Miss Pillsbury had told him that he'd landed the role of the Emcee in Cabaret (on Broadway, not the pathetic version Mr. Ryerson was putting together), he would not have been more surprised than he was by the real reason he was there.

As it was, Kurt was surprised he was there at all.

When Suzy Pepper had walked into Kurt's first period class and presented him with a hall pass and an appointment slip for the guidance counselor during last period, he'd been shocked. After all, he hadn't skipped any homework or caused any problems in class. And on top of that his grades were high. So really, there just wasn't anything he could think of that warranted a trip to the guidance counselor's office.

And if anyone would have suggested that the meeting was going to be about Puck, he'd probably have cut them down with one well worded remark.

After all, he'd never once gone to Miss Pillsbury after one of his _many_ sojourns into the depths of the dumpsters. (He hadn't even told his _dad_ about that.)

So, why should one little look between the two of them be cause for alarm?

Well, it had bothered Kurt.

A _lot_ to be honest. But that was because of the kiss and just… just because.

However, there was no way that Mr. Schuester knew about _that_. Unless Puck had told him that is. But since Kurt was sure Puck had thought he'd been kissing Quinn, he knew that wasn't the case. And, if by some chance he _had_ known whom he was kissing, Kurt was positive that he wouldn't have run and told anyone, let alone Schu.

So when Miss Pillsbury confessed the reason for calling him to her office, Kurt could only respond with a very un-witty "Excuse me?"

"Mr. Schuester said he noticed some… some animosity between the two of you while you were telling the other kids about your party. Which, by the way, I think is a wonderful idea. You know, that you've made some friends and that you're having them over." Miss Pillsbury smiled and nodded as if she hadn't just changed topics at breakneck speed. And for just a second, Kurt couldn't help but be annoyed by the fact that everyone seemed to be happy that he'd made some friends. After all, it wasn't like he'd _never_ made a friend before. Sure, there weren't many, but he'd still had a friend or two in the past. However, before he could muse on that any longer, Miss Pillsbury spoke again. "But, like I was saying… animosity."

Animosity? That was what Mr. Schuester had thought he'd seen. Kurt almost couldn't believe it. Of all things, Schu had read anger and hatred in the look they'd shared. And for some reason, that made Kurt sad. Because to him, it hadn't felt that way at all.

But then again, Kurt hadn't known _why_ Puck had been staring at him, All he knew was that Puck gaze had left him breathless and unable to move.

However, Kurt _did_ understand what it was like to be on the other side of Puck's anger. And it wasn't fun. He'd learned that by dealing with his near constant taunting from the beginning of seventh grade.

However, ever since Puck had joined glee, he'd begun to lay off, but Kurt would never forget what it felt like to be degraded by the other boy…  
The anger that always bubbled just beneath his porcelain skin whenever Puck was about to toss him in the dumpster would always flare up whenever he saw the other boy anywhere near a garbage can.

And he'd never forget the feel of the worry that caused his jaw to tighten up and his eyes to go wide whenever Puck would throw a menacing gaze towards him in the hallway.

But even though Kurt would _never_ be able to forget those things, whenever he thought of the kiss they'd shared… the anger he felt at being tortured lessened a little.

"Kurt?" Miss Pillsbury's voice was insistent, as if she'd been trying to get his attention for a while.

And when Kurt jumped a little in his seat, he realized that that was exactly what she'd been doing. But before he answered, Kurt took a second to wonder just how long he'd been lost in his thoughts about Puck. "I'm sorry…"

"That's, it's, that's ok." Miss Pillsbury smiled as she eyed Kurt. "Now, how are things between you and Mr. Puckerman?"

Kurt shifted in his seat a little before answering. "Things are…" He had absolutely no idea how to answer her question. After all, Kurt had no clue where he stood with Puck. So, after a few seconds of struggling for just the right words to get the guidance counselor off his back, he finished with a _very_ lame "fine."

Miss Pillsbury nodded at him, disbelief filling her doe like eyes. It was clear from her expression that she didn't believe him. But rather than push, she just nodded as she pursed her lips together.

"Honestly, Miss Pillsbury, things are fine between us." Kurt put all of his effort into sounding calm and collected.

"Alright. But if you should ever need to talk -" She sounded worried, and her eyes went wide when Kurt interrupted her.

"I'll come straight to you." He wouldn't of course. But Kurt was willing to say just about anything to get out of her office.

"Oh, well. Ok." Miss Pillsbury looked confused, and Kurt took that as his opportunity to push himself out of the chair before she could protest. When she still didn't say anything, Kurt all but ran to the office door.

Before pushing his way through it though, Kurt looked back at Miss Pillsbury who still looked as if she were trying to think of something to say. But before she could speak, Kurt looked her in the eyes and said, "Thank you." When her face split into a wide smile, Kurt took that as his cue to leave.

Rushing down the hall after school, he cursed the fact that his meeting with Miss Pillsbury had gone fifteen minutes past the end of last period and that he still had to stop at his locker. He needed to get home. Kurt had homework to do, a party that he and his father still needed to shop for…

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"You can say it however you want Kurt, but I saw you two staring at each other." Mercedes carefully walked down the stairs into Kurt's basement; her arms were full of snacks that he and his father had picked out the day before. When she reached the bottom step, she made a point to stand still and look at him, her face serious. "It was…"

"For the _millionth time_…" Kurt exaggerated an eye roll to emphasize his irritation. "There is absolutely _nothing_ going on between us."

"Kurt, I saw -" Mercedes' voice was a whine, and it gave him ample time to cut her off.

"You saw nothing. I blame all of the chemical-ridden hairspray you insist upon using." Kurt took the bags out of her arms and placed them on the chair sitting before his vanity. "It has clearly clouded your judgment."

"My judgment is fine, and my hairspray is not synthetic. It's organic. Which _you_ know because _you_ gave it to me." Mercedes crossed her arms over her chest as if that proved her point.

"Mercedes -" Kurt stopped as he propped up the folding table that would hold all of the refreshments. He instantly regretted it when his best friend used the pause to jump at the chance to speak again.

"Seriously, Kurt." Mercedes had dropped her arms and crossed the room to help with the table. "I mean, isn't it time you… moved on? From Finn, I mean?" Her voice was soft, gentle.

Kurt was so shocked by her statement, so taken aback by the abrupt change in the conversation, that his head snapped up so hard it hurt his neck. "And what, you want me to move onto Puck? Someone who is, not only straighter than Finn, but whose favorite pastimes include tossing me in the dumpster every morning?" His words were sharp, enunciated with an angry edge, and there was a fierce blush burning his cheeks.

And the fact that the color in his face was a mixture of anger at Mercedes and the result of the memory of Puck's lips pressed tenderly against his own only served to make it worse.

"He hasn't done that in a long time." Kurt couldn't help but notice that Mercedes' sounded calm even though he'd just bitten her head off.

"And that makes it better?" Kurt's voice had raised an octave, and he could feel the flush creeping into his hairline.

To be honest, he couldn't care less that Puck had stopped throwing him in the dumpster before school. His new Marc Jacobs jacket was still in critical condition, and his corset would never be the same again. But dry cleaner bills aside, Puck had made an art out of torturing him, and Kurt just didn't think he had it in himself to forgive Puck.

"Geez, Kurt. Keep your tiara on." Mercedes made a show out of rolling her eyes when Kurt shook back his hair like a duck ruffling its feathers. "All I'm saying is -" When Kurt tried to interrupt. She held up one hand to stop him. Surprising even himself, Kurt kept his mouth shut, pursing his lips together. "I _saw_ the look between the two of you. And it was private… _intimate_." Mercedes' voice was soft, almost pleading, and Kurt felt himself deflate immediately.

At the time, Kurt hadn't been able to put a name to what Puck's gaze had made him feel. But Mercedes had just given him two perfect words, two perfect ways to describe the moment they'd shared.

And as that realization hit him, Kurt felt all of the color drain from his tomato red face. Oh, he still hated Puck and very much loved Finn, but the knowledge that he had shared such a moment with Puck was undeniable. It _had_ happened, and worse yet, Puck knew it as well.

Mercedes' eyes went wide as his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "Kurt, are you -" But she was cut off by a voice yelling down from the top of the stairs.

"Hey! Pizza's here!" Burt came tramping down the steps, five pizza boxes piled up in his arms. And behind him was a tall, reed-thin man with thinning blonde hair and another stack of boxes in his arms.

Kurt rushed forward, unbelievably relieved to have a chance to get away from Mercedes' searching glare. "Hey, Dad." Kurt took the boxes from his father and placed them on the table they'd set up near the staircase. "Hi, Uncle Mike." Kurt moved to take the boxes from the other man but didn't get a chance to. Mike shoved them into Burt's arms before pulling Kurt into a bone-crushing hug.

"Heya, Kurty. What's this I hear about you joining the football team?" Mike had let go of Kurt and moved to mess up his perfectly coifed hair. But before he had a chance, Kurt held up one delicate hand to block him. The move only caused his uncle to laugh.

"Yes, Uncle Mike. I've gotten the part of kicker." Kurt's clear eyes flickered over to his father who was beaming with pride. He smiled just a little before looking back at his uncle. "I'll make sure to get you and Dad tickets for a game next season."

"You better! Or no more free pizza for you." Mike looked over at Burt, and they nodded at one another.

"Wait… Uncle Mike? As in Uncle Mike's Pizzeria on Mallard Ave?" Mercedes had taken the pizza boxes out of Burt's arms and was eyeing them with a newfound respect. Everyone knew that Uncle Mike's pizza was the _best_ in town.

"Guilty as charged." Mike smiled proudly.

"You never told me Uncle Mike was your uncle!" Looking incredulous, she turned to Kurt. All he could do was smile.

"Well, Mike isn't _really_ my uncle. He and my dad played J.C. football together. They've been friends ever since." Kurt smiled from his dad to his uncle.

"Yep. And when this guy here," Mike elbowed Burt, "said he was gonna have a kid and wanted me to be the Godfather, I couldn't say no."

Mercedes smiled and nodded, the pizza boxes still in her arms. Kurt was about to say something else when the grandfather clock in the upstairs hall chimed six times.

"Oh, no!" Kurt looked frantically towards the ceiling as if he could see the clock through the floor. "I put six thirty on the invitations." Desperation filling him, Kurt looked at his father. He was nowhere near being done setting up.

"Well then, we better get to work." Burt nodded at Kurt before clapping Mike on the shoulder. "Where did you say you wanted the couch, Kurt?"

"In front of the wall where we talked about projecting the video." Kurt pointed daintily from the couch to the center of the floor to the large, white wall. When he looked back at his dad, Burt was torn between nodding his head and shaking it from side to side.

"Alright, we'll take care of the heavy lifting." Uncle Mike's face was a amused smirk as he looked from Kurt to Burt. "You two," he looked at Kurt and Mercedes. "Take care of setting up the food. And make sure to keep the pizzas closed until it's time to eat."

When the doorbell rang exactly thirty minutes later, Kurt took one last look around his basement bedroom. The couch was set up with the projector behind it, and other chairs were placed around it. The refreshment table was laden down with chips and dip, brownies, cookies, and a small bowl of candy. There was also a vegetable tray with a tub of dip in the middle. The pizzas were set up on a second table waiting to be opened, and under the tables were tubs full of ice, pop cans, and water bottles.

The second time the buzzer rang, Burt and Mike both squeezed Kurt's shoulder before heading upstairs to answer the door.

Just as soon as they were out of earshot, Kurt looked over at Mercedes, his face stern. "Don't you _ever_ tell _anyone_ you heard Uncle Mike call me Kurty." He took another step closer to her, trying to look menacing. "And if, for some reason, you should…. I will make sure to burn your technicolor, zebra-print hoodie."

As Mike and Matt bounded down the stairs, Mercedes broke into a fit of laughter.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- To all of my lovely readers and reviewers, thank you so very much. I'm so happy you're enjoying this so far! :)  
- Quack: Thank you so much! You're an amazing beta. :duck:  
- Reviews are love.


	4. Late Arrivals

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 4: Late Arrivals**

When more people started showing up, Kurt took their coats and laid them neatly across his bed. But soon after the arrival of the first few glee club members, that system went right out the window. Because as little groups of kids came tromping down the stairs in quick succession, Kurt lost track of whose jackets he had and hadn't taken. And before he knew what was happening, Kurt's nice, neat basement was littered with small mounds of coats, scarves, gloves, and who knew what else.

He thought about going through the room and picking up all of the discarded clothing. Because really, the mess was driving him _nuts_, and he just couldn't take it. But when Kurt heard a commotion at the top of the steps, he changed his mind.

Looking up, he was surprised to see a man, (whom he could only assume was Mr. Abrams), who stood on one side of Artie's wheelchair, was directing Puck to stand on the other side. And standing in the doorway, as if awaiting instructions, were Kurt's father and Uncle Mike.

When Kurt's eyes fell on Artie, who was looking at his clasped hands as if he were ashamed, Kurt felt his stomach clench up in guilt. Because as much as he hated to admit it, when Kurt had made his plans for the party, he'd totally forgotten about Artie's wheelchair and the narrow stairway leading into the basement. If he'd have thought about it, Kurt would have asked his dad if they could have used the T.V. in the living room. With twelve people, it would have been cramped, but it would have been better than struggling with the staircase.

But he hadn't remembered.

And because of that, Mr. Abrams, Puck, Kurt's father, and Uncle Mike were awkwardly trying to maneuver their way down the steps with a wheelchair and an obviously embarrassed Artie.

Taking a quick look around the room, Kurt was relieved to see that everyone else was too busy to notice, because they were pulling off even more extra layers or digging into the food. But just as he was about look back up the stairs, Kurt saw Tina out of the corner of his eye. She looked sad and worried as she studied Artie, and it was only then that Kurt realized the two had barely spoken in the past month. And though that definitely bared being thought about some more, Artie's chair was finally being placed on the basement floor.

Completely forgetting about Tina, Kurt rushed forward, starting his apology before he was even within earshot of the other boy. "Artie, I'm so sor-"

"It's ok. I understand." Artie looked down at his lap before looking up at Kurt. "It's not like you have to deal with this every day after all." His voice was soft, but Kurt had gotten the message. After spending a week in a wheelchair himself, hosting a bake sale to pay for a handicap accessible bus, _and_ doing a Proud Mary in wheelchairs, he _very much_ should have remembered.

Kurt's clear blue eyes looked up, hoping to find his father, but both he and his uncle were gone. And he could only assume that they'd gone back upstairs to continue their riveting discussion about what lures fish would find more enticing.

The only other adult who was left was Mr. Abrams. Kurt looked into his eyes, imploring him to understand. But Mr. Abrams merely shrugged, clearly wanting his son to fight his own battles. And Kurt couldn't really blame him for that. Artie, after all, would have to deal with things like this for the rest of his life.

Giving up on Artie's dad, Kurt opened his mouth to apologize again, but Mr. Abrams spoke up first. "Well, you guys have a good time." He nodded once at Kurt before placing his hand on his son's shoulder. When Artie looked up, he smiled down at him. "Just give me a call when you're ready to come home, ok?"

Artie just nodded and smiled at his dad. When the older man turned and walked up the stairs, Artie watched him go. The moment Mr. Abrams disappeared into the kitchen, Artie turned back around but didn't look at Kurt. "Thank you, Puck."

Puck?

Kurt had been so focused on his guilt over forgetting about Artie that he'd completely forgotten that Puck had helped carry him down the steps.

More importantly, he hadn't realized that Puck was _still_ standing with them.

And before he could stop himself, Kurt looked over to his side. Puck was indeed standing there, mere inches away from him. He looked freshly shaven, and the wonderful smell of Ivory soap mixed with aftershave wafted off of his skin. The boy's hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and when he shrugged at Artie, his elbow brushed against Kurt's arm. And when Puck spoke, Kurt noticed an almost non-existent smile at the corner of his lips. But what surprised him the most was that he looked almost… humble. "Hey, man. No prob'."

Kurt felt the own mouth begin to twitch. But he fought back the urge to smile, pressing his lips together instead. In all of the time he'd known Puck, Kurt had never once seen him look so… kind.

For the most part, he'd only ever seen Puck as a pompous jock or a brooding bad boy. Deep down, Kurt knew that there was more, that there had to be more, to the other boy than his two favorite facades. But this was the first time that Kurt actually cared.

The realization that he _cared_ for anything regarding Noah Puckerman caused the burgeoning smile to disappear from Kurt's face instantly. And when he noticed that he'd been lost in thought for who knew how long, Kurt felt the tips of his ears begin to burn.

Puck's dark brow was furrowed, and Kurt felt himself squirm under his glare. "Dude-"

"Don't call me _dude_." Kurt cut Puck off before he could say anymore, his agitation steadily growing. "And _why_ are you still standing there? Don't you have someone else to go bother?" It was unforgivably rude, and Kurt truly regretted that. But he just _could not_ handle Puck staring at him any longer. It was unnerving, and worse, a very tiny (and traitorous) part of him liked it.

What he enjoyed Puck's gaze, Kurt didn't know. Puck certainly wasn't Finn after all. And he _never_ would be. But Kurt couldn't help it.

So Kurt decided that he could only blame his newfound outlook on Puck as a result of the one stupid kiss they'd shared.

His ears still burning, Kurt wanted to say something else, to cover up his social gaffe, but a shared look between Artie and Puck kept Kurt's mouth shut. And it also served to encourage his ever-growing blush to creep across his cheekbones. As he stood there staring at the two of them, Kurt half-expected Puck to tell him off. But it was Artie who spoke up instead.

"Well, you're sorta blocking his way. And mine for that matter." Artie made a show of looking at where Kurt was standing in relationship to himself and Puck.

"Oh." The word, in all of its ineloquence, escaped from Kurt's lips before he had a chance to stop it. And for the first time since he'd walked over, Kurt looked at where they were standing.

Artie was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, and Puck was next to him, trapped between the wall and the wheelchair. And both boys were stuck in their spots because Kurt was standing directly in front of them.

"Yeah…" This time it was Puck who spoke, but rather than look at him, Kurt studied the floor as he stepped to the side.

"I, umh, why don't you go and get something to eat before…" As Kurt's voice trailed off, all three of them looked over at the food table. Finn had a half-eaten slice of cheese and sausage pizza hanging out of his mouth and had stacked what looked like one of each kind of pizza on his plate.

The sight warmed Kurt's heart, causing a little smile to tug at his lips. It was the type of silly expression that came from watching one's crush at their most innocent and adorable. "Before Finn eats it all." Kurt's voice had softened, and he looked away quickly, hoping that Artie and (mainly) Puck hadn't noticed.

Artie's amused laugh met his ears, and Kurt smiled in relief. Not only had the other boy obviously missed the look he'd just given Finn, but he didn't seem to be angry anymore either. And Kurt grabbed at the chance to apologize to him once more. "Artie, I'm so sorry."

"It's ok, really. This is the first time I've been over before. I understand." Artie looked up at him and smiled kindly. But Kurt could tell from the look in his eyes that he was still hurt. However, before either of them could say anything else, Artie rolled over to the couch where Finn was now sitting with Mercedes.

When Kurt turned away from them, he was surprised to see that not only was Puck still standing next to him, but that his dark eyes were flickering from Finn to himself. And this time, unlike the other day in glee club, the emotion behind his gaze was obvious. He was angry, _very_ angry.

It was then that Kurt realized that he'd never seen Puck truly mad before. Because whenever Puck had thrown him in the dumpster or hurled insults at Kurt, he seemed more devious and gleeful than angry. And the sight took Kurt's breath away.

His first instinct was to run, hide, to make sure that Puck could neither beat him up nor try to shove him in something without everyone noticing.

But with the full force of Puck's anger trained on him, Kurt couldn't move. His feet, in their stylish loafers, were rooted to their spot as is he'd actually sprouted roots in the floor. So while his brain was loudly and clearly screaming, "Go! Run! Save your pretty face!" his feet disobeyed. Kurt tried to speak, to break the silence between them, but his lips had barely opened when Puck spoke up.

"You are _still_ in my way." His voice was irritated, upset, but it nowhere near matched the fury in his eyes.

And once again, Kurt replied with a _very_ unsophisticated response. "Oh." It was only then that Kurt noticed that when he'd moved for Artie he'd completely blocked Puck, even more so than before.

Puck just stared at him, clearly waiting for him to move. But desperate to hold his ground in his own home, Kurt frantically thought of something to say. What he came up with was nowhere near as witty or biting as he'd hoped to be, but it was something nonetheless.

"Here, let me take your coat." Kurt's soft voice shook a little as Puck's look changed to one of surprise.

Never once taking his eyes off of Kurt, Puck took his hands out of his pockets and peeled off his jacket, revealing a well worn band t-shirt underneath. And as Puck stared into what felt like the very depths of Kurt's soul, Kurt wondered _how_ he had managed to never notice how incredibly expressive Puck's eyes were before. Because, ever since their kiss, Kurt felt like he kept falling into the depths of the other boy's stare without any type of lifesaver to pull him out.

When Puck held out his coat to him, Kurt blinked his eyes hard to try and regain control of his senses. The second he re-opened them, he reached out, expecting Puck to hand the heavy, black jacket to him.

But he never did.

Instead, Puck just stood there waiting, his arm outstretched and expectant, his coat lying over it.

Irritated and slightly humiliated, Kurt sighed in exasperation before sliding his hand under the coat to take it from Puck. It angered him that the other boy was so obstinate that he couldn't even bring himself to hand over a jacket. And because of that, Kurt turned, already walking away before he even had a grasp on the material.

But Puck's hand, steady and sure, was slipping over his wrist underneath the concealing cloak of the jacket. The touch had him frozen in his spot once again.

Puck's fingers, so long and sure, took their time tracing the contours of pale skin and bone as if he _knew_ Kurt wouldn't pull away.

Oh, he wanted to yank his wrist out of Puck's grasp, but Kurt couldn't. Not only because of shock or fear or a dangerous mix of them both, but because…

It felt good.

And Kurt liked it.

It wasn't so much that he enjoyed the feel of _Puck's_ hand on his wrist. And if he really tried, Kurt could _almost_ pretend that it was Finn's fingers that were gently holding his wrist. And if it hadn't been for the fact that he was staring across the room at Finn, who was laughing at something Mercedes was saying, it would have been _very_ easy for Kurt to have gotten lost in that fantasy.

But what it came down to was that Kurt was so… _new_ to all of this.

He might have always known who he was and that he preferred his own sex to the opposite, but he was still a kid.

Kurt had never held hands with another boy or been on the receiving end of a crush (Mercedes not withstanding). And to make matters worse, Kurt had managed to fall for someone whom he knew he had no chance with. But despite all of that, he had had a first kiss. Unfortunately, it had been with someone who'd made an art form out of tormenting him.

And Kurt _hated_ that fact even more than he hated admitting Rachel had talent.

Which he couldn't help but think just wasn't fair.

It was a petulant thought, Kurt wouldn't deny it. But he didn't care. And he would have been happy to wallow in self-pity a while longer, but Puck seemed to have other plans.

Puck gave a gentle tug on his wrist, and Kurt felt his heart speed up, the pulse point on the underside fluttering madly. And before Kurt could stop himself, could remind himself that he _loathed_ the boy attached to the hand, he turned around.

When he did, Kurt tried to look anywhere but into Puck's eyes. But really, there was nothing to look at other than a blank wall or a set of stairs. And rather than stare at either of those, Kurt's eyes dropped to the black fabric covering their hands.

"Dude, I…" Puck's voice was low and hesitant. Kurt was surprised to realize that it was the first time he'd ever heard him sound anything less than 115% sure of himself.

"I told you not to call me that." Kurt's voice was soft even though he'd interrupted Puck. He should have been angrier, should have sounded more upset after Puck once again addressed him by his least favorite moniker. Instead, he was lifting his eyes and swallowing back the nerves that had quickly taken over his body.

And though Kurt wished he would, Puck didn't say anything for a moment. But when their gazes met, Kurt noticed something _very_ slight flicker in Puck's eyes. It was almost as if Kurt had seen a tiny spark in his deep brown irises.

"_Hummel_." Puck put so much significance and meaning in that one word that it caused Kurt to gasp slightly. Praying that Puck hadn't noticed, he quickly pressed his lips together.

Whether he had or not, Kurt couldn't tell. And he also no longer cared because at that moment, Kurt wanted nothing more than to step forward, to close the distance between them. Not because he felt anything for Puck, of course. But because there was _something_ in his voice, and Kurt was desperate to find out what it was, to see if he could discover the meaning with his lips.

And for that moment, Finn was totally forgotten.

Which Puck seemed to understand because his fingers tightened ever so slightly around Kurt's wrist. And Kurt noticed that, somehow, Puck's eyes had managed to become darker, more intense. Whatever he'd been planning to say was long forgotten, tossed aside as Puck pulled on Kurt's wrist so slightly that Kurt wasn't even sure he'd felt it.

But he had, or Kurt wanted to believe he had anyway. Because the next thing he knew, his body was leaning forward of its own accord and every muscle, every nerve and synapse seemed to trembling in anticipation of what was to come…

"Hey, Kurt! When are we gonna get this party started?" Mike's voice, muffled by a chunk of pizza, seemed to echo through the room. And it slapped Kurt harshly across the face, pointing out the reality of the situation.

And before he could stop himself, before he could process what had (or hadn't) happened, Kurt pulled his arm out of Puck's grip. He didn't pull hard; his wrist slipped easily, too easily really, through the fingers that had been holding it.

When he turned to walk away, Puck didn't try to stop him or pull him back.

The jacket that had been covering their hands was long forgotten.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes  
**- There _might_ not be a new chapter next week. It all depends on how fast I can type and how I'm feeling.  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- To everyone who has read and reviewed (even if you've just read), THANK YOU.  
- Quack: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.  
- Reviews are love.


	5. Breaking Point

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 5: Breaking Point**

The sudden lack of contact had left Kurt's wrist tingling, and he rubbed at it angrily as an odd sensation of loss flooded through him. The remnants of Puck's touch were pleasant, nowhere near the pain of being tossed in a dumpster, and the feeling terrified him.

Puck's touch shouldn't have made him feel that way. Or, more importantly, Kurt shouldn't have been regretting the decision to pull his hand away. But no matter how hard he tried to deny how the touch made him feel, Kurt just couldn't. And as he made his way towards the makeshift movie screen, Kurt desperately tried to shove the sensation out of his mind.

But no matter how hard he tried to think of other things or how hard Kurt tried to replace the feel of Puck's fingers with his own, he couldn't.

When Puck had first grabbed his wrist, Kurt had enjoyed the feel of someone's skin against his own. So much so actually, that he hadn't cared that it had been Puck who had been holding him and _not_ Finn.

But now, as he stepped past Finn, it was _all_ he could think about. It made Kurt feel… guilty, as if he'd somehow cheated on Finn with Puck.

And the irony of that thought would have made Kurt laugh if it hadn't made him sick to his stomach first.

Swallowing the thought, Kurt shook his head and continued on. He was _not_ going to let his thoughts go down that road.

After stepping over out-stretched legs and mini-mounds of coats and hoodies, Kurt reached the front of the room. But before saying anything, he took a look out at his audience. For the most part, everyone seemed content and happy as they talked and munched on pizza (or whatever they'd grabbed to eat).

The only ones who _didn't_ seem to be enjoying themselves were Quinn, Finn, and himself.

Quinn, though sitting between Brittany and Tina, seemed to be completely alone. There was an unopened bottle of water on the floor by her feet and a slice of pizza with only one tiny bite out of it on a paper plate on her lap. She looked sick and pale and completely drained.

And for just a moment, Kurt couldn't help but think about how weird it was to see Quinn in his basement. After all, they'd never been close. And in fact, he could think of only two times she'd voluntarily spoken to him. But his heart still went out to her. He truly believed that Quinn didn't deserve what was happening to her.

Even if she _had_ broken Finn's heart.

The moment he thought of Finn, Kurt's eyes flickered over to him. Before, when he was getting his pizza, the taller boy had looked happy, happier than Kurt had seen him since the blow out with Puck and Quinn actually. But now he looked upset again as Mercedes rubbed his forearm and whispered something to him.

For just a moment, Kurt was tempted to go to Finn, to sit down next to him and do whatever he could to turn his frown upside down. Because his crush was so deeply ingrained within him that his moods would respond to Finn's.

If Finn smiled, Kurt smiled.

And if Finn hurt, Kurt hurt.

But with everyone there and the desire to try and keep his crush and his sexuality _somewhat_ private, Kurt stayed still.

And to make matters worse, Kurt didn't even feel he could watch Finn to see if Mercedes was able to cheer him up. Because standing in front of the glee club, some of whom were turning their attention to him, Kurt felt as if he was exposed. He felt as if his crush was on display in front of everyone.

The thought caused his flesh to crawl and the tips of his ears to burn. It was a sensation that, until Kurt had stepped in front of the club to announce his party, he'd never felt before. Or more exactly, it was something that Kurt had never experienced until Puck had kissed him, until Puck's dark eyes bore into his in front of everyone else.

And as Kurt tore his eyes away from Finn in an effort to keep his crush to himself, he felt a swift and sickening wave of anger towards Puck. Because if it weren't for the way Puck made him feel, Kurt would still have felt free to look over at Finn. He would have felt free to be comfortable in his own skin. But with the lingering feel of Puck's gaze still fresh in his mind, Kurt couldn't relax. It was almost as if Puck figured out a way to torture him from the inside out.

Trying to swallow his irritation, Kurt attempted to tell himself that he was being ridiculous, that he was _not_ on display. And just to prove his point, Kurt allowed his gaze to flicker back to Finn once more. But as much as he wanted to check on Finn, a _tiny_ part of him wanted to search Puck out in the crowd.

Just to see if he looked upset or miserable.

Because, at that moment, Kurt wished that Puck could feel all of the pain, anger, and misery that he'd _ever_ caused him.

But Kurt didn't look.

Instead, he took a second to calm himself, pushing back his perfectly coifed hair as he took a few slow, deep breaths. And feeling a little better, Kurt placed his right hand on his hip before clearing his throat pointedly. Much to his surprise, everyone in the room turned their attention to him. Bolstered by their reactions, Kurt smiled coyly before addressing his audience.

"Now that everyone is here and settled in…" He gave an appreciative little snort as Mike and Matt waved half-eaten slices of pizza in the air. "It's time to start the film." Kurt gave a little nod at Mercedes who jumped up and ran to the projector his father had set up.

"Now, since we so _thoroughly_," Kurt said the word with relish. "Destroyed the other teams, who were using _our_ numbers no less…" He paused for a moment, allowing for the appropriate snickers and cheers. "I thought we could watch their performances as well. Just so we can _truly_ appreciate just how amazing we were."

There were eye rolls from the girls and hollers from the guys. And Kurt couldn't help but laugh at that, because during sectionals, they'd all been upset and angry over their set list being leaked. But in the days since, they'd all come to find the fact that they'd _still_ managed to win (with a last-minute routine no less) amusing.

When everyone had settled down again, Kurt smiled just a little. "So, without further ado…"

When the perfectly pronounced ado left Kurt's lips, the makeshift screen behind him sprang to life with a title card bearing the name and date of the event. And as cheers began to erupt from everyone in the room, Kurt ran from out in front of the wall. Being careful not to step on anyone, he quickly made his way to the back of the room where he met up with Mercedes.

The moment he was within earshot of her, Mercedes started talking. "Ugh, poor Finn. He's so upset. His mom yelled at the Fabrays when she found out about Quinn." Her voice was just above a whisper, and Kurt couldn't help but marvel at that. He would _never_ have thought she could be so quiet.

But more importantly, Kurt was beyond relieved that she _hadn't_ brought up Puck. And since the first words out of her mouth weren't "I saw you and Puck together," he felt safe in assuming that she hadn't seen what had (or hadn't) happened.

Kurt was just about to respond when there was a staccato tapping on his shoulder.

When he turned around, Kurt was surprised to himself face-to-face with Santana.

Out of all the jocks and Cheerios who had joined the glee club, she was his least favorite. And from what he'd heard through the gossip mill (i.e. Mercedes), she was holding on tight to Puck despite her… _thing_ with Brittany. And for just one horrifying moment, Kurt was terrified that maybe _she_ had seen him with Puck. His next fear was that she was preparing to put her well-manicured claws to use.

"Uh, excuse me, but do you, like, have any straws for the drinks? I don't want to mess up my lipstick." Her voice was bored, as if she didn't want to be there. Which Kurt just couldn't understand since she'd already admitted to liking glee club. And as she watched him expectantly, part of Kurt wondered if maybe bored and rude wasn't just Santana's default position in life.

But since it was _his_ party (and _only_ because it was his party), Kurt smiled and did his best to reply politely. "No, sorry. All out."

"Whatever." Santana turned on her heel, making sure to smack Kurt in the face with her ponytail as she did.

He only had enough time for one exaggerated eye roll at Mercedes before Mike approached him, asking where the restroom was. (The door across from the bed.)

And sadly, that seemed to set the tone for the rest of the party. Because without fail, every time Kurt would try to sit down or grab a snack for himself, someone would come to him in search of something. And in an effort to be a good little host, Kurt chased down fresh bags of chips, more bottles of water, and extra toilet paper (among a million other things).

And when Brittany came up to him in search of more Cherry Coke Zero, Kurt had to bite his tongue to keep himself from telling her to go upstairs and get it herself. But just as he was about to plaster on another smile and say, "Sure, let me go find some," Rachel's voice came booming out of the speakers he had attached to the wall. And suddenly, he felt desperate to get out of the basement. Her voice, though amazing, was suffocating in the confines of his own bedroom.

So, filled with relief, Kurt quickly made his way up the steps and into the kitchen yet again. But to his surprise, it wasn't empty. His dad was leaning on the counter, a pizza box open in front of him. "Hey, Dad. Where's Uncle Mike?" I thought you two were discussing glitter versus feathers for fishing lures in the garage?"

"Wimp. He got a hook stuck in his thumb. He's in the bathroom cleaning the _wound_." Burt snorted as he pulled a slice of pizza (covered in what looked like every type of meat Uncle Mike's carried) out of the box. "How are things going downstairs?" Burt shoved the slice into his mouth, biting off nearly a third of it. Through the bite, he added, "And why are you up here?"

Kurt sighed deeply, realizing for the first time just how worn out he really was. And before he answered, he leaned back against the fridge and closed his eyes. Enjoying the soft hum of the appliance, he took a few deep breaths. With his eyes still tightly shut, Kurt answered his father, his voice sounding as tired as he felt. "Brittany wanted to know if there was any more of the Cherry Coke Zero."

"The ditzy blonde one?" Burt sounded a little far away, as if he were struggling to remember just who Brittany was.

"Yep. That's the one." Kurt chuckled a little, amazed that his father had remembered that after having only met her once or twice. When he opened his eyes, he was unsurprised to find his dad stuffing the pizza into his mouth once again. And as the older man tore off a bite, Kurt's stomach gave a vicious growl.

Pushing himself away from the refrigerator, Kurt walked over to the kitchen counter to stand across from his dad. "And the party is going… fine, by the way." Kurt looked down and wrinkled his nose at the pizza but plucked off a piece of sausage anyway. "I just needed to get away for a few minutes." He popped the piece of meat into his mouth and began chewing thoughtfully.

Burt nodded as Kurt chewed, his clear eyes searching his son's. But before saying anything, he took a swig of the can of Coke that was sitting next to him, almost as if he were giving himself more time to think. "Did something happen? Do I need to -"

"No." Kurt cut his father off before he could continue. "It's just… I couldn't stay down there during Rachel's solo." His dad looked confused, but before he explained, Kurt snatched another chunk of the sausage off of the pizza. "She's the one that I… That got…"

"The solo." Burt looked sad, as if he felt responsible for Kurt not getting the part.

"I don't regret what I did, Dad." Kurt smiled at his father, reaching out and placing his free hand on his dad's forearm. "I just can't stand listening to her sing. Yes, she has a fantastic voice." At that moment, Rachel perfectly nailing a high note came wafting up the stairs causing Kurt to grimace. "But she is just _so_ irritating."

Burt burst into laughter, shaking his head back and forth.

And as he did, Kurt took the moment to pop the piece of meat into his mouth. When the heavy seasoning began to burn his tongue, Kurt reached out, silently asking his father for a drink of his Coke.

Without hesitation, his dad handed over the can as Kurt swallowed the sausage. "So, everything really is ok? Did the kid in the wheelchair settle down?"

Kurt took a sip of the drink before answering. "Yeah, he just… I should have thought about it." He placed the aluminum can carefully on the counter top, almost as if he were afraid of breaking it. "His name is Artie. In case you were wondering."

"Ok." Burt picked up the can as Kurt watched him. Looking at his dad, he could hardly believe how easy it had become to talk to his father.

For years he'd worked so hard at trying to hide who he really was and that had seriously strained their relationship. During that time, Kurt had wanted nothing more than to make his dad proud and to be able to talk to him and confide in him.

And the pain of not being able to have that… it had been unbearable.

But since he'd told his father the truth, things had changed drastically between them. That was not to say that everything was perfect though. Kurt could tell that his father was still uncomfortable talking about some things and honestly so was he.

In a way though, Kurt had felt as if they were meeting one another for the first time. And it was amazing. He'd learned more about his father in a month than he had in sixteen years, and Kurt was pretty sure that the same was true for his dad. So, as his father sat watching him, making an effort to learn about his friends, Kurt felt the back of his throat tighten up as a wave of love and gratitude overtook him. And at that moment, Kurt Hummel felt better than he had in a week.

"Hey, is everything alright?" Burt's question came out of nowhere causing Kurt to blink a few times in confusion. "I know I asked before and that you said everything was fine." He held up one hand as if to keep Kurt from interrupting. "But these past few days… you haven't really been _you_."

"Umh, I…." It was all there, ready to come out.

The truth about his feeling for Finn.

The kiss with Puck and everything that had followed.

How Puck had tortured him for years.

It didn't matter that he was in the middle of a party or that it would require them to broach the subject of boys. Because Kurt _needed_ to talk to someone, and he wanted that person to be his father. "I…"

But before Kurt could say anything else a very scared sounding voice came yelling up the steps. "Kurt! Mr. Hummel!" Heavy, frantic footsteps pounding up the stairs followed, as their names seemed to echo through the kitchen. Kurt's eyes went wide, and his father stared at him, the confusion and worry evident on his face. "Help! Please, help!"

Before either of them could move, Finn came bursting into the kitchen, his boyish face whiter than Kurt had ever seen it.

And in his arms was Quinn.

Her face was screwed up as if she was in pain, and there were tears streaming down her cheeks. Cradled in Finn's arms, she looked so tiny and fragile. And Kurt could hardly believe that she was the same person who'd been fierce enough to be named head Cheerio.

Frozen in his spot, Kurt watched as his father hurried forward, his eyes intent on Finn. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"I… I don't…" Finn half-sobbed, confusion and worry twisting his features. "She was fine and then, and then…"

With all of his attention locked on Finn, Kurt hadn't noticed that Puck was in the room until he gripped Kurt's shoulders and shook him out of his trance. "Where are your keys?"

Kurt managed to tear his eyes away from Finn to look at Puck. When his eyes found Puck's, Kurt was taken aback by the fear he saw in them. "They're, they're on the counter." Kurt pointed to the tiny dish where he and his father kept their keys. It wasn't until he saw his hand trembling that Kurt realized he was shaking.

"There's just… There's so much blood." Finn's voice broke on the last word, and though he didn't want to, Kurt turned to look at Quinn. He didn't even bother to try and hold back his gasp.

The pale yellow fabric of Quinn's pants was stained scarlet.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- I owe everyone that reviewed the last chapter a huge thank you. I'm amazed and touched by your kindness. Thank you so very much.  
- Quack: Thank you for all of your help. :duck:  
- Reviews are love.


	6. Empty Hallway

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 6: Empty Hallway**

In retrospect, the drive to the hospital had been horrible.

At the time, Kurt hadn't been able to process much more than the fact that there was something _very_ wrong with Quinn and that they needed to get to the ER as quickly as possible. And in the midst of it all, everything had become a hysterical blur of fear and worry.

But after a half an hour of pacing back and forth in the waiting room, Kurt began to remember details that he hadn't thought he'd noticed.

Puck had ended up driving the Navigator, weaving in and out of the other vehicles with a precision that Kurt couldn't believe he possessed. And somehow, Kurt had ended up in the passenger seat next to him, but the details on how that had come to pass were still sketchy. All Kurt could remember was someone shoving him in the car. But who that person was, was still a mystery.

Finn had ended up in the backseat with Quinn on his lap. Her pale face had been buried into his chest while her tiny hands had grasped her belly desperately. Kurt could vaguely recall his father in the backseat next to Finn, pressing his hand to Quinn's forehead and barking out directions to Puck.

And all Kurt could remember himself doing in the middle of everything was clinging to the dash as he had fought back terrified tears.

The knowledge that he'd been too scared to do anything at all made him feel very young and helpless. And it left a sick taste in the back of his throat that burned of bile and disappointment.

As soon as they'd made their way through the sliding glass doors of the emergency room, the nurse at the check-in station had caught sight of the blood on Quinn's pants. And without a single word Finn and Quinn had been whisked away. But Kurt, Puck, and Burt had been told that they had to stay in the waiting room. The only reason they'd admitted Finn had been because he had been carrying Quinn and the nurse had thought it would be best not to move her to a wheelchair on the grounds that she hadn't known what was going on with Quinn.

Puck had tired to follow with protests of "But I'm the father!' But the nurse, a non-descript woman with a severe blonde bob, had shot him a dirty look. And when she'd spoken, her voice had been just as short and blunt as her hair. "Since we don't yet know if this is pregnancy related, that doesn't matter. Now go _sit down_." Personally, Kurt had thought that she was just being purposely obstinate. After all, how could someone _not_ assume that the blood was related to Quinn's condition?

Kurt had watched Puck's face harden as he had taken a seat, pounding his fist on the arm of the orange plastic chair as he'd sat. Kurt had thought about going over to see if Puck was ok, but the next thing he'd known, Mercedes and Rachel had come bursting into the waiting room. And soon after that, the rest of the glee club had begun trickling in.

It wasn't until Kurt had grown tired of pacing and took a seat next to Mercedes that he realized something. Scanning the room, he quietly whispered to his best friend. "Where are Tina, Artie, and Uncle Mike?" Once again, he'd forgotten about his wheelchair-bound friend. But this time, to be fair to himself, he'd completely forgotten about pretty much everyone and everything. And that included locking the front door.

"Oh, right." Mercedes shook her head as if she'd forgotten to relay a very important message. "Tina asked me to tell you that she was going to wait with Artie since everyone was in a hurry to leave. Your uncle said he'd stay there as well, for Artie. And in case anyone else came by."

Kurt just nodded. So long as Artie wasn't sitting in his basement all alone, he was fine. And for the most part, he felt like he knew Artie pretty well. So he was fairly confident that Artie would understand why they'd rushed off.

With nothing else to say, Kurt leaned back in his seat. Next to him, Mercedes was jittery, looking from side to side and bouncing her leg up and down. It was almost enough to drive Kurt crazy.

Or in search of a different chair.

He was just about to ask her to stop moving when something else popped into his head. Thankfully, when he leaned over to whisper into her ear, she finally stopped bouncing around. (Kurt could have kissed her for that, but he didn't.) Instead, he placed his hand lightly on her wrist. "Has anyone informed Quinn's parents about the fact that their youngest daughter is in the hospital? I know they kicked her out, but this is an… emergency." Kurt's voice stumbled over the last word, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it truer than it already was.

"Umh…" Mercedes sounded as if she were trying to remember something that had happened years ago instead of only an hour ago. "I think your dad is trying to get a hold of them." Together, they looked over towards Burt.

Standing just outside of the sliding doors, the older man had a cell phone pressed to his ear, and he was obviously angry. From the red tinge of his face, his puffed up chest, and the finger he was pointing at an invisible person, Kurt could tell that his father was letting whoever was on the other end of the line have it. And he was _beyond_ relieved that it wasn't him on that other line.

Oh, they'd had their fights and disagreements, but Kurt was 100% positive that he'd never seen his father _that_ angry before. And he sincerely hoped he'd never see him that angry again.

When Burt finally slammed his phone shut, he stomped back into the hospital, disappearing behind the nurses' station. Unfortunately, Kurt didn't get a chance to ask him what was going on.

Pressing his lips together, Kurt scanned the waiting room, looking for Finn. He'd been the one to hold Quinn on the way to the hospital, and he'd also disappeared behind the nurses' station with her. But as he searched the full waiting room, Finn was nowhere to be seen. Still looking around the room, Kurt gently tapped Mercedes' hand. "Where'd Finn go?"

Next to him, Mercedes made a big show out of rolling her eyes while sighing dramatically. "I don't know where he is. I haven't seen him." Mercedes gave Kurt a look she'd been giving him a lot over the past few days. It was mixture of anger and pity, and it very clearly said, "You have _got_ to get over that boy." And Kurt had come to loathe it in a _very_ short time.

Just as Mercedes opened her mouth to (obviously) follow up the evil eye she'd just shot Kurt, he cut her off. "Don't. Please." The look on his best friend's face softened a touch. "Not here. Not now."

But even though Mercedes seemed to understand what he was asking, she didn't keep her mouth shut completely. Leaning in, she whispered into his ear as softly as she possibly could. "Here's a better question for you, Kurt. Where's _Puck_?"

It wasn't until she'd mentioned Puck's name that Kurt realized he hadn't been among the sea of students in the waiting room. For some reason, that made every muscle in his body tighten up. And that included the hand he still had on Mercedes' wrist.

Using her other hand to pry his fingers off, Mercedes hissed in pain. Once her arm was free, she very discreetly pointed towards one of the many hallways that led off of the ER waiting room. This one, thankfully, wasn't blocked by a nurses' station. "He went that way."

Without another word, Kurt pushed himself out of the plastic chair, trying his hardest to seem nonchalant. And praying that everyone was too distracted to notice where he was going, Kurt slipped down the corridor Mercedes had pointed out.

The hallway was long and empty, twisting and turning every once in a while. Occasionally the blank stretches of wall were adorned with a door or a tacky painting, but for the most part, Kurt was surrounded by grey wallpaper. Unlike what he'd expected, there weren't any patient's rooms or doctor's offices. And try as he might, Kurt couldn't imagine what the hallway could possibly be used for.

His best guess was that it was a passage the hospital used to move patients from the ER to the patient rooms. But as he rounded another sharp turn, Kurt forgot all about the hallway and its uses.

Because the moment he spotted Puck sitting on the floor, elbows on his knees and forehead in his hands, every sense Kurt possessed seemed to sharpen. The sterile chemicals used to clean all of the hospital surfaces began to sting his nose, and the dim fluorescent lighting caused Kurt's eyes to burn slightly. And the sip of Coke he'd had earlier seemed to coat his mouth, making him feel as if his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. As he walked, his footsteps felt heavier, as if he were wading though quicksand.

But of all the sensations bombarding Kurt, it was sound that was the strongest, the most potent. And the harder he tried to be quiet, the louder everything seemed to get. The hum of the overhead lights had become so deafening that Kurt would have sworn he was being followed by a swarm of monster bugs. And his heart was pounding so hard that Kurt found it impossible to believe that the racing lub-dub of it wasn't echoing through the halls. The strange cacophony of noises was accented by the sharp halting sound of his dress shoes clacking against the pale grey tile.

And when Kurt stopped and stared down at Puck, the chaotic symphony of sound grew to a deafening pitch within him. It was almost as if all of the noise had filled his body, replacing all of his organs, bones, and blood. But just as quickly as the noise began, it stopped, leaving Kurt in complete silence.

The other boy didn't look up or ask what he wanted. In fact, Puck didn't acknowledge Kurt's presence at all. Instead, he just sat there in the same exact position, his only movement the rhythmic contracting and expanding of his ribs as he breathed.

Kurt thought about calling out to him or whispering his name in the deserted corridor, but somehow he knew that Puck wouldn't respond if he did. So instead, Kurt did the one thing he wanted to do the least.

Turning his back to the wall, Kurt cringed as his brand new Calvin Klein sweater came in contact with the (most likely staph-riddled) wall and let himself slide down. When his butt finally touched the floor, the coolness of the tile seemed to seep through the fabric of his pants. And he couldn't help but send a little prayer to the fashion gods that his favorite pair of skinny jeans would walk away from the experience unscathed.

Finally seated on the floor, Kurt pulled his legs into the same position as Puck's. It wasn't comfortable by any means, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to sit with his legs stretched out. Whether it was because he was trying to minimize the contact his pants had with the floor or because it just felt wrong to be comfortable at such a time, he didn't know. But either way, Kurt settled, his butt aching from the pressure of bone against tile and his spine jutting painfully into the wall.

Kurt was just about to ask Puck how he was when his cell phone began to chime, blasting out some terrible song Mercedes had programmed into it. Reaching into his sweater, he pulled the cell out of the pocket to his button-down shirt. The ring was loud and obnoxious, and he was desperate to get rid of it as soon as possible. When he finally managed to answer the phone, Kurt practically whispered into the receiver as he said, "Hello?"

"Hello, Kurt. It's Artie?" Artie's voice sounded hesitant, worried. "I just wanted to let you know that I called my dad. He's on his way to pick me up. Your uncle is still here so… we should be able to manage. Somehow." He sounded embarrassed, as if the prospect of "managing" wasn't a happy one.

"Oh, ok. I'm really so-" Kurt wanted to apologize for leaving him behind, but Artie cut him off.

"It's ok, really." Artie sounded as if he really meant it, and for that, Kurt was grateful. "Is, umh… Is Quinn ok?" His voice had dropped, becoming low and serious.

Next to him, Kurt felt Puck shift as if he were waiting for an answer to Artie's question. Their knees were now touching, and Puck's shoulder was pressed against his. But unlike when Puck had grabbed him mere hours ago, this felt natural and comfortable. And suddenly, Kurt felt nervous. He wasn't sure if it was because of what Artie had asked or because of just how… right it felt to have Puck leaning against him. But either way, he had a hard time keeping his voice steady when he finally answered. "We… We haven't heard anything yet."

At the other end of the line, all Artie was able to say was "Oh."

Kurt paused, unable to think of anything else. And when nothing came to him, Kurt remembered why Artie had called in the first place. He wanted to go home, and Kurt was pretty sure his uncle and Tina would want to as well. "When you leave, would you please be sure to lock the front door. Or have Uncle Mike lock it? There's a spare key under…" The nerves that began only moments ago seemed to intensify when he mentioned the spare key.

It had nothing to do with the fact that his dad had told him that the key was for "emergencies only." (This _was_ after all, an emergency.) Instead, it had everything to do with Puck who had shifted, ever so slightly, closer to him. And for just a second, Kurt was reminded of how apprehensive he'd felt about Puck taking one of the flyers with his phone number on it.

But Artie wanted to leave and he needed to lock the door behind him. So, Kurt swallowed down his worries, promising himself that he'd move the key as soon as he got home. "Under the mailbox in a little magnetic box. Just make sure to put it back when you're done."

After saying goodbye, Kurt hung up his phone but didn't slip it back into his pocket. Instead, he held onto it as if it were a lifeline. He was just about to ask Puck if he was ok again when the other boy spoke.

"What was it like when your mom died?" Puck's voice was hard and serious, as if he were trying to stop himself from saying more.

The fact that Puck knew about his mom didn't surprise Kurt. After all, they'd gone to the same grade school. And given what was happening and where they were, he wasn't all that shocked by the question. But what did surprise Kurt was that he _wanted_ to answer, _needed_ to answer.

And the only other person he'd talked to about his mom, other than his dad, was Finn. At the time, he'd felt awkward about opening up, but he'd been glad he did. It was an intimate moment that Kurt cherished.

But sitting alone with Puck in the empty hallway, Kurt felt safe and like he could finally help. Even if he had fallen apart when this whole nightmare had begun.

"She… She died of cancer so we, I, had some time with her before she died. The doctors found it really late though, so there was nothing they could do." Kurt's voice was calm and surprisingly steady. "My parents tried to explain what was happening, so I would understand and be able to say goodbye. But I guess I never really believed them…" Kurt's voice was barely above a whisper as he remembered his mom and dad trying to explain to him what was going on.

And he'd understood what death meant and that it was permanent, but when his mom had died… "Losing her, it… it felt like someone had pulled out a part of my heart. And I was left with this giant, aching hole." Absentmindedly, Kurt placed his hand over his heart. What he didn't tell Puck was that the part of him that had been ripped away when he was six had never grown back.

He wanted to say more to Puck, about how things would be ok, that Quinn and his baby would be fine. But deep down, Kurt didn't really believe that. There had been _so_ much blood that it seemed impossible that everything would work out all right. So rather than say anything else, Kurt fell silent, thinking about Quinn and his own mother.

When the phone in his hand began to buzz, letting Kurt know he had a text message, he felt relieved to finally have something to do. The uncomfortable silence that had built up between them was becoming unbearable. But when he read it, Kurt felt his stomach drop, and he wished that he could return to the uncertainty of what to say to Puck.

The message was from his father, and it read, "Get back here now. Bring Puck."

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- To everyone that didn't turn their back on this story after the last chapter… I thank you.  
- Quack: Thank you for all your help.  
- Reviews are love.


	7. Cleaning up the Mess

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 7: Cleaning up the Mess**

By the time Kurt and Puck made it back to the ER waiting room, everyone was clustered around Burt, anxiously awaiting the news. His dad had waited for them to return, and when he saw them coming, Burt motioned for Kurt to come and stand next to him. Puck had followed along, pushing his way through the group so that he was standing next to Kurt, their shoulders pressed together.

"I just talked to Finn. Quinn miscarried. She…" Burt's voice was drowned out by a wave of gasps and cries from everyone in the glee club.

"Why? What happened?" Santana's voice was shocked and almost soft. Kurt couldn't help but wonder if maybe she had a heart after all.

"The doctor thinks it was because of stress and overexertion. Now, I don't know the whole story, but..." Burt was still speaking, but Kurt tuned him out. He didn't know everything either, but he did know more than his father.

And as his dad continued to tell them about Quinn's condition, Kurt thought about all of the dance rehearsals and what she must have gone through during Cheerios' practices. He also thought of how hard she'd tried to hide the pregnancy, all of the fights, her parents, the drama and the blowup with Finn and Puck…

_Puck._

The whole time they'd been standing there, Kurt hadn't once thought about Puck even though he was pressed against him. Turning his head ever so slightly, Kurt caught sight of Puck's profile out of the corner of his eye. What he saw caused his heart to drop to the pit of his stomach.

Puck's face was hard, a mask of anger and hatred. His lips were pursed together so hard that Kurt was positive his jaw was locked. But when Kurt _truly_ looked at Puck, it was his eyes that gave him away. His brows were drawn together, but his deep brown irises looked lost… broken. And before Kurt could stop himself, he reached out and put his hand on the other boy's elbow. Kurt used his left arm instead of his right, so that his forearm crossed over his waist. It made him look as if he were holding onto his stomach rather than Puck.

Next to him, Puck didn't respond to the touch in any way. Instead, he looked intently at Burt.

"Can… Can I see her?" Puck sounded desperate, almost afraid.

When Puck interrupted, Burt didn't look surprised. "No, I'm -"

"But Finn's in there. And I'm the -" Puck's voice was a mixture of anger and hurt, which made Kurt tighten his grip.

This time, it was Burt's turn to interrupt. "I know, son." When Burt used the word son, Kurt felt Puck bristle, but he didn't drop his hold. "But she doesn't want to see… _anyone_." Burt's eyes were locked on Puck's, and though he'd said anyone, the _you_ was clearly implied.

Puck didn't respond. He just dropped his eyes to the floor as everyone turned to look at him.

"Now, it's late, and there's no point in any of us sitting around here all night. Finn is staying, and Quinn's sister and husband are on their way. So…" Burt was addressing everyone in a way that commanded their attention, and Kurt could tell that he was doing it on purpose. His father was obviously trying to shift the focus from Puck to himself. And when Kurt looked around the circle, he was relieved to see that it had worked. Once again, everyone was looking at his father.

"But what about her parents? Aren't they coming?" This time it was Brittany who interrupted. Clutched to Santana, Brittany looked awful. Her dreamy voice was sad, and her eyes were rimmed with red.

"No." Burt's response was firm and absolute, and no one else said a thing. "Now, it's time for us all to leave."

"What if we left stuff at your house? A lot of us didn't grab our coats and bags." Mercedes was hesitant, as if she didn't quite know where she belonged.

"That's fine. You can come by tonight or tomorrow if you want." Burt looked at Mercedes for a moment before looking around the cluster of kids again. "We should be home soon for anyone that wants to stop by tonight."

All around him, Kurt heard murmurs from his fellow glee club members. But none of that, none of _them_ mattered. At that moment, all Kurt cared about was Puck.

Because once everyone else started to break the tiny circle around Burt, Puck began to pull away. And Kurt could have dealt with that if Puck hadn't begun scanning the crowd, a look of lost confusion on his face.

So rather than let him go, Kurt tightened his grip on Puck's elbow. It wasn't meant to hurt him, or keep him from leaving. (In fact, as Kurt felt Puck's muscles flexing reflexively under his fingertips, he realized that he couldn't have hurt Puck if he'd wanted to.) All Kurt wanted was to get Puck's attention. And thankfully, he did.

Puck stopped looking around and turned back toward Kurt. When their eyes met, Kurt felt his heart stop for just a moment. There was no heat or intensity in Puck's gaze, no commanding presence. Instead, he looked hollow, like he'd just lost something very important to him. Which Kurt realized, he had.

Puck didn't say anything. Instead, he just waited, looking down at Kurt expectantly.

"Come on." Kurt tugged on the other boy's elbow. When Puck's gaze turned to confusion, Kurt softened his grip. "You rode here with… us." He'd almost said me, but Kurt changed his mind at the last second. For some reason, it felt too personal, too intimate. "So…" At a loss for anything else to say, Kurt let his words trail off.

Puck just nodded before looking away. And though Kurt didn't want to, he let go of the other boy's arm. But before he did, he gave Puck's elbow a gentle squeeze. And together they walked out of the sliding glass doors of the emergency room.

Once outside, the crisp, cool air of a chilly November night hit Kurt in the face so hard he felt as if he'd been slapped. It sent a shiver through his body that caused Kurt to hunch up his shoulders in protest. He didn't hate the cold, but he didn't love it either. Next to him, Puck did the same thing, but he shoved his hands deep into his pockets as well.

When they arrived at Kurt's car, parked haphazardly near the handicap spaces, Burt was leaning against the hood, his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look upset or angry, just tired and ready to go home, and Kurt could certainly sympathize with that. Kurt was just about to ask his dad why he hadn't gotten in the car rather than stand in the cold when Puck pressed something into his hand.

The lump was warm, presumably from having been stuffed in Puck's pocket. Kurt could feel sharp edges around smooth surfaces, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what he was holding. When he looked down into his palm, Kurt was surprised to find his keys sitting there. He hadn't realized that he'd never gotten them back from Puck once they'd gotten to the hospital.

Without another word, Kurt handed the keys over to his father who looked at him questioningly. Kurt didn't respond, only giving his dad a pleading look before walking around to the other side of the Navigator to stand by Puck.

When Burt unlocked the doors, Kurt cast a glance over the backseat before Puck climbed in. Kurt was both amazed and relieved to see that there wasn't any blood on his seats. It wasn't a matter of upholstery being stained. After all, that could have been easily taken care of. No, Kurt just didn't know if he could have handled seeing the evidence of what had happened in the back of his car.

Once they'd all piled into the Navigator, Burt drove home.

No one said a word the entire way.

When they pulled up in front of the house, Santana's car was parked right in front. Kurt just sighed. He knew his dad had said everyone was welcome to come and pick up their things, but Kurt wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and forget about everything. For a few hours at least. And now he was going to have to stay awake for who knew how long while the rest of the glee club came for their abandoned clothing.

Once everyone was inside, Kurt walked down the steps into his basement with Puck, Burt, Brittany, and Santana following him. What he saw when he flipped on the lights caused Kurt to stop so fast that everyone bumped into him.

His basement, his beautiful room was _trashed_.

Kurt knew, from the very beginning that there would be some mess to contend with, but he'd _never_ expected this…

His bedroom looked as if American Eagle and Aeropostale got in a brawl and ripped one another to shreds; there were jackets, hoodies, scarves, and gloves covering every other surface in the room. And lying amongst the mounds of clothing was a mixture of plates, napkins, and empty pop cans that made Kurt feel like weeping.

When the people piled up behind him started to complain that he wasn't moving, Kurt stepped carefully off the bottom stair. And walking further into the room as if he were dreaming (or having a nightmare), Kurt barely noticed as Santana and Brittany picked up a few things before heading back upstairs. Neither of them said goodbye, but Kurt didn't care. All that mattered was that he get his room back into some sort of order before going to bed.

And so, without saying a word to his father or Puck, Kurt grabbed one of the garbage cans he'd set out earlier. Slowly, he began picking up paper plates with half-eaten slices of pizza on them and balled up, greasy napkins.

As he continued to pick up the trash, Kurt noticed his father combining the leftover pizza into two boxes and throwing away the extras.

Together they worked their way through the messy basement as the kids who'd been there earlier came and went, taking their clothing with them.

A few hours later, when the basement looked, at the very least, inhabitable, Kurt and Burt decided to call it a night. Most of the clothes were gone; only a few hadn't been claimed yet. The only ones who hadn't stopped by were Matt, Mike, and Finn.

Looking over his room once more, Kurt noticed a few more things lying on the floor. One of his button down shirts, a sock, and a few other random things that looked as if they'd come out of _his_ closet were still lying on the floor. For the life of him, Kurt _could not_ figure out how his clothes had gotten out. He could only assume that it had happened one of the many times he'd left the room. So rather than ponder on it any further, Kurt scooped up the stray items and tossed them in the hamper.

Finally ready to go to bed, Kurt walked out of his bathroom, preparing to say goodnight to his dad. When he'd first walked out of the room, his dad was taking down one of the folding tables. But now Burt was standing next to the white couch that had been moved into the center of the room. His hands were on his hips, and he was staring down at the sofa with a look of sadness on his face.

"Dad?" Kurt's voice was hesitant. And as he took a few halting steps towards Burt, Kurt realized that he was afraid of whatever was on the couch. After all, Quinn had been sitting there the last time Kurt had seen her.

But when he came up next to his dad and looked down, Kurt didn't he could have been anymore surprised…

Puck was lying on the sofa, his legs curled up on the seat, and he was using one arm as a pillow. His other arm was dangling over the edge of the seat, and he was fast asleep.

"How long has he…" Kurt's voice, soft and confused, trailed off.

Burt just shrugged as he continued to stare down at Puck, who didn't move a muscle.

"Should I…" Once again, Kurt didn't finish his sense. But this time, to be honest, it was because he really didn't know _what_ he should do.

"Nah. Just…" Burt sighed a deep and weary sigh that made him sound ten years older than he was. "Just let him sleep it off." He looked over at Kurt who nodded in response. "Make sure you call his mom and let her know where her son is. She should know. Even if it's -" Burt paused to look at his watch, and his eyes widened at the sight of the time. "Wow, five am."

"Ok. I guess I could check his cell for a home number." Kurt _hated_ the idea of going through Puck's jacket pockets, and he _hated_ the idea of rooting through his phone even more. But his dad's tone left no room for argument.

"Alright." Burt grabbed Kurt's shoulder for a second before turning to leave. But before he could go, Kurt placed his hand over his father's.

"Thank you. For everything tonight." For the second time since the moment Finn came running up the steps with Quinn in his arms, Kurt felt the back of his throat tighten up, and his eyes begin to burn.

Burt just looked into Kurt's eyes as one lone tear slipped down his son's cheek. With his free hand, Burt reached out and squeezed his son's other shoulder reassuringly. "Get some sleep."

Kurt didn't trust himself to speak so he just nodded at his dad. As they both dropped their hands, Kurt swallowed back the lump in his throat and tried to smile. "I… I should make that call now."

After they said goodnight and his dad disappeared back upstairs, Kurt looked over at Puck.

Puck's chest was rising and falling softly in the gentle rhythm of sleep, and his lips were parted ever so slightly. Asleep on the couch, he looked so young, so innocent, and Kurt couldn't help but wonder how many people were allowed to see such a vulnerable side of him. And for just a second, Kurt was held captive by the sight. And a tiny part of him wished he could stay in that moment forever. But when Puck shifted, Kurt remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

Stepping forward, Kurt leaned over Puck to pull his jacket from where it was draped over the back of the couch. From the weight of the right side, Kurt could tell that the phone was in that pocket. And sighing deeply, he stuck his hand in. His fingers slid over a few coins, the phone, and a crumpled piece of paper. When he pulled out his hand, he brought out the phone and on accident, the paper.

After throwing the jacket back over the seat, Kurt looked down at the things in his hand. At the sight of the rumpled piece of paper in his hand, Kurt's mouth dropped open in surprise. It was small, blue, and even without unfolding it, Kurt _knew_ it was his invitation.

He was desperate to know what finding it in Puck's pocket meant, but Kurt was also worried that Puck would wake up and catch him with it. So he quickly stuffed the paper back into the jacket before he began flipping through Puck's contacts. As he scrolled, Kurt was unsurprised to see Brittany and Finn listed. But when he got to the H's and saw "Hummel," Kurt almost dropped the phone. After that, it took all the concentration he had to continue flipping through the contacts. And when he got to M and "Mom," Kurt sighed in relief as he hit send.

The phone barely finished its first ring when a hysterical woman answered. "Noah, _bubbala_, where are you?" Kurt had to bite down on his bottom lip to stifle a little giggle at the thought of Mrs. Puckerman referring to her son as _bubbala_. And he made a mental note to look up the meaning of the word later.

A few minutes later, Puck's mom was convinced that her son was ok. And relieved to be done with the call, Kurt slipped the phone back into the jacket pocket. He was just about to head into the bathroom to get ready for bed when the other boy shivered. It was only then that Kurt realized Puck's toned arms were bare, and he was wearing a white sleeveless undershirt. Kurt had no idea where the t-shirt he'd been wearing earlier went, and part of him didn't care. He was just too tired to care about Puck's clothing at that point.

Walking over to his bed, Kurt pulled off the light grey throw his mother had crocheted when she'd been pregnant with him. He unfolded it and carefully pulled it over Puck, hoping not to wake him. Kurt loosely tucked the blanket around Puck's arms and shoulders, letting his hands linger for just a moment before heading into his bathroom to get ready for bed.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- Sorry about the lack of chapter last week. My brain was fried crispy and I _really_ needed a break.  
- To everyone who has followed this story thus far, thank you. I never expected the warm and wonderful response I've gotten. Thank you so, so much.  
- Quack: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. :duck:  
- Reviews are love.


	8. Dirty Laundry

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 8: Dirty Laundry**

When Kurt woke up the next morning, he was _hot_.

Terribly, horribly, awfully, unbearably hot.

His bedding felt like restraints. And there was a thick layer of sweat covering his entire body that made his pajamas twist around his limbs and stick to his body uncomfortably. But even though his skin was throbbing as if it was on fire, Kurt wasn't ready to get up. So rather than drag himself out of the unbearable heat, Kurt just rolled over, kicking off his blanket and sheets as he did so.

The moment the cool air hit his damp skin, Kurt sighed contentedly as he fell back to sleep. But unlike before, he was restless; strange dreams plagued him, causing Kurt to toss and turn.

At first, his dreams were just odd. There were polka-dotted ducks quacking Fireflies by Stevie Nicks (a favorite song of his mother's) and blue people hopping around in formation. But quickly they became more realistic but no less odd (or troubling).

Finn, like in so many of his dream, appeared standing before him, wearing jeans and a football jersey, a sweet smile on his face. Like always, he looked clean-shaven and carefree. And there was a beckoning look on his face that Kurt couldn't resist.

Without thinking, Kurt ran forward and threw himself into Finn's open arms.

The taller boy easily scooped him up and spun Kurt around in circle once before setting him back down. It was so easy, so effortless, that Kurt just laughed a high sparkling sound that seemed to bounce off of the walls of his perfect dream world.

With his feet back on the ground, Kurt tilted his head up expectantly, letting his eyelids fall shut. As Finn gently took hold of his face, Kurt reached out and placed his hands on Finn's elbows. And when Kurt felt the other boy's lips press against his forehead, Kurt smiled, basking in the attention.

Slowly, lazily, Finn's lips trailed over Kurt's forehead, cheekbones, nose, lips, and neck. Each kiss lingered longer than the last, pressing into his pale skin with more and more intensity. Instinctively, Kurt stepped into Finn's embrace, his arms slipping up and around the other boy's neck. And as Finn languidly ran the tips of his fingers through Kurt's hair, he pressed his own kisses into the underside of Finn's jaw.

Kurt's touch elicited a small moan from Finn that caused his throat to rumble under Kurt's lips. And with his eyes still shut, Kurt found the other boy's lips and nipped at them playfully before pressing a real kiss onto Finn's waiting mouth.

When he finally pulled back, Kurt marveled at the groan of protest coming from the boy before him. It was a glorious sound that warmed his heart and soul, one that he never wanted to forget. And when he opened his eyes to see Puck standing before him, lips parted, eyes dark and hungry, Kurt just laughed again.

As Puck pressed his lips together, Kurt smiled wider and bit down on his lower lip coyly. His bright blue eyes flickered between Puck's gaze and his mouth as he tightened his arms around the other boy's neck. He was asking, begging Puck to kiss him again. And it was a question he didn't need to ask more than once.

Puck roughly pulled him forward, his calloused hands on either side of Kurt's face. The kiss was rough and hurried, lips and tongues hopelessly fighting for dominance. The sweetness of their earlier kiss was gone, but this touched Kurt in a way the other hadn't. It was passion and need, and Kurt could feel it burning him from the inside out.

It was Puck who pulled away first, but he didn't let go of Kurt's face. Instead, he ran his thumbs over Kurt's smooth cheekbones as if trying to memorize the curves.

Kurt just kept his eyes shut, intoxicated by the attention. And when Puck brushed his lips over Kurt's once again, he smiled contentedly because… it wasn't a kiss but rather, a whisper.

Puck's lips were gentle as they lovingly formed Kurt's name. And when he finally said it, it came out sounding like the holiest of prayers. "Kurt…"

When the word met his ears, Kurt awoke with a violent start, bile burning at the back of his throat. Trying to swallow it down, he scrambled out of bed, barely noticing that his mother's blanket was among the covers he'd pushed off earlier. Quickly, he stumbled into the small bathroom he and his father had installed. The tile was cool under his bare feet and Kurt's stomach was twisted in knots. But when he was finally kneeling before the toilet, nothing came up.

And as Kurt sat there with his head hanging over the porcelain bowl, one word kept running through his mind. "No. No. No. No. No. No…"

After a few minutes of waiting, Kurt sat back against the wall. He still felt sick to his stomach, but the nausea had abated some. However, now that he wasn't focused on not puking, he was able to recall the dream with far too much clarity. And that was something he _very much_ did not want to do. Because just as thoughts of Puck whispering his name began to replay in Kurt's mind, his stomach gave an ominous rumble.

Very slowly, Kurt pushed himself off of the floor and headed out of the bathroom. He wanted to rinse off his face, but Kurt's stomach was still upset, and he was desperate for some 7-Up. Because when he was small, his mother would always give him a glass of the citrus-flavored drink after he'd thrown up. And as he drank, she would stroke his hair and tell him that everything was going to be all right.

It was something Kurt had never grown out of.

And after the dream he'd had and the miscarriage, Kurt _really_ wanted to believe that everything would be ok again.

When he finally made it upstairs, Kurt all but stumbled into the kitchen, avoiding any and all reflective surfaces. He was pretty sure that if he caught sight of himself after the night he'd had, he'd be forced to run and hide in shame.

Forever.

"Whoa, look what the cat dragged in." Burt was chuckling as he stirred a cup of coffee. "And since when do you like Def Leppard?"

Kurt had managed to piece together a witty response for his dad's first statement. But the question caught him completely off guard. So, brilliant retort forgotten Kurt just glared at his dad and said, "What? I don't…" His voice trailed off as his dad pointed at the shirt he was wearing.

Confused, Kurt looked down at the clothes he'd worn to bed. And sure enough, he was wearing a very tattered Def Leppard t-shirt that looked as if it were about fifty years old. It had faded to gray, and there were small holes dotting the thin fabric. And to make matters even better, the shirt was so big on him that Kurt could have thrown on a fashionable belt and called it a dress.

"I must have…" Kurt vaguely recalled scooping a few articles of clothing off of the floor and throwing them in his hamper the night before.

And the more he thought about it, the more Kurt remembered…

After tucking Puck in, Kurt had sat before his vanity mirror and performed an abbreviated version of his nighttime skincare regime. He'd developed it a few months ago, in case of emergencies. And though he hated skimping on his nightly skin care, spending the majority of the night in a hospital ER had left him exhausted.

As he'd gotten ready for bed, Kurt had tried to keep his eyes from shifting over to Puck. And for the most part, he'd succeeded due to the fact that he didn't want to get any product in his eyes (even if they were organic). But every once in a while, Kurt would catch himself staring at the sleeping boy.

He'd looked peaceful, as if nothing was wrong, and the sight had all but broken Kurt's heart. Because he had known that when Puck woke up, the pain would be so much worse than when he'd first fallen asleep.

When he'd finished with his face, Kurt had walked into the bathroom to change. Normally, he would undress near his closet, choosing what he wanted to sleep in as he took off his clothes. But with Puck there, there had been _no way_ that was going to happen.

Asleep or not.

And though he'd loathed doing it, Kurt had pulled a shirt and pair of boxers off the top of his hamper. (Because he was just too tired to walk out to his closet and grab something else.)

For the first time in his life, Kurt had climbed into bed unaware of what he was wearing.

And now he was regretting it. But before he could say anything else, his dad spoke up. "Oh, I almost forgot. That boy who rode with us to the hospital last night called."

"Puck?" The name was out of Kurt's mouth before he could stop himself.

"No, the other one. Finn?" Burt looked at his son over the top of his mug, suspicion in his eyes. "He said he'd come by around five to pick up his jacket."

"Oh." Kurt looked down at the floor, disappointment filling him. Looking back up at his father, Kurt couldn't stop himself from asking the thing he hadn't even realized he'd been wondering. "When did Puck leave?"

"Around eleven. It's two now." Burt took a sip of coffee as he eyed his son. "I didn't talk to him. I just heard the front door shut and his truck start." Kurt opened the fridge, hoping that ducking behind it would hide the sadness he knew was crossing his features. "That motor of his sounds like it could use a tune up."

Thoroughly confused by his dad's last statement, Kurt grabbed a can of 7-Up and closed the door. When he could see his dad again, Kurt was shocked to see just how calm and matter-of-fact he looked. "What?" As soon as the word left his mouth, Kurt felt his stomach turn, and he gingerly took a sip of the pop.

"His motor sounded rough. You should take a look at it sometime." Burt eyed the can of pop in his son's hands. "Upset stomach?"

Kurt nodded as he took another sip of the carbonated drink. When he could finally speak, Kurt had to put all of his effort into remaining calm. "Why would _I_ want to do that?"

"Well, you're a Hummel, so you're good with a wrench." Burt smiled a little, the pride evident on his face. "Plus, you two seemed close -"

"We're not."

The words, hastier and angrier than he'd meant them to be, slipped out before Kurt could stop them. And by the raised eyebrows on his dad's face, Kurt knew that he'd crossed a line. And desperate not to lose the moment, Kurt quickly apologized. Thankfully, his dad accepted.

But unfortunately, Burt wasn't ready to drop the subject. "Even if you're not close, he could probably use a friend right now."

Completely taken off guard by that, Kurt took another sip of his pop instead of replying.

When Kurt didn't respond, Burt picked up his coffee mug and headed toward the kitchen door. But before walking through, he called back to his son. "Make sure you sip that. Chugging it will only make your stomach worse."

Kurt listened to his dad climbing up the stairs to the second floor. And as he stood there with the cool aluminum can clutched in his palm, Kurt wished that everything were as simple as sipping instead of chugging. Because as his thoughts drifted back to Puck and what his dad had said, his stomach clenched up painfully once more.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Hey, I, umh, just stopped by for my coat." Finn stood in the doorway wearing a grey hoodie. He looked tired and a little rushed.

"Oh, right. Would you like to come in?" Kurt smiled slightly and stepped aside. Earlier, he'd put Finn's jacket on the coat rack by the front door. But Kurt wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to invite him in.

"Uh, sure." Finn stepped inside the doorway but made no move to go any further.

"So…" Now that Finn was inside, Kurt found that he didn't know what to say. So rather than speak, he pulled Finn's coat off the rack. But when Finn _still_ didn't say anything, Kurt was forced to either speak or succumb to the awkward silence. "Umh, how's Quinn?"

"She's ok, fine." Finn seemed to have trouble speaking, his words coming out stilted and unsure.

Kurt held Finn's jacket to his chest as he examined the boy before him. "Did her sister get there?" His voice was soft, as if he were trying to soothe a frightened animal.

"Yeah, her and her husband are there now. Quinn is going to go and stay with them for a while. She'd been staying with Brittany since…" Finn's voice trailed off.

Quick to gloss over the moment, Kurt said the first things that came to his mind. "Finn, why did you help Quinn? I mean…" This time it was Kurt's turn to leave his thoughts unfinished.

"I, umh… I felt obligated I guess." Finn looked down at Kurt. But even though Finn was looking at him, he was somewhere else.

Of all the possible answers, _that_ was not the one Kurt had been expecting. And it shocked him in the worst possible way. It was so cold, so heartless that Kurt could hardly believe that it had come from Finn.

Kurt didn't respond, didn't even say "oh." Instead, he looked down at his feet, feeling very small and young.

"Look, I gotta get going. I need to head back to the hospital." Finn twisted himself towards the door as if he needed to leave right away.

Kurt offered Finn his jacket, wishing that just maybe their hands would brush when he took it. Unfortunately, they didn't. Whether or not that was on purpose, he wasn't sure. And Kurt quickly pulled his arm back after Finn took his coat.

Without another word, Finn pulled the front door open, but before he walked out, Kurt called him back. "Finn, has Puck been able to see Quinn?"

Finn didn't turn around. Instead, he just called over his shoulder in a flat voice that was tinged with triumph. "He came by earlier, but Quinn doesn't want to have anything to do with him. Ever."

Without another word, Finn walked out, pulling the front door shut behind him. Kurt was left standing there, his mouth hanging open. It was the first time Kurt hadn't been able to stand the sight of the boy he loved.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Later that night, Kurt sat Indian style on his bed with his mother's crocheted blanket spread over his legs. Lying on the bed spread in front of him was the (freshly laundered) Def Leppard shirt. Even though he wasn't sure, part of Kurt was positive that the t-shirt was Puck's. Looking back, Kurt realized that it must have gotten mixed in with his own clothes he'd scooped off the floor. After all, everyone else had claimed their clothes. And anyway, Puck was the only glee club member who would wear something like that. He had just finished his nightly routine but couldn't bring himself to lie down. Not yet anyway. After the weekend he'd had, his mind was just too full, too jam packed with…. _everything_.

But despite Quinn's miscarriage and all of the horrors that entailed, Kurt couldn't stop his mind from flickering back and forth between Puck and Finn. And for that, he felt terrible. After all, Quinn had lost her child, but…

Kurt didn't even know.

Honestly, all he knew was that whenever he closed his eyes, he would see Finn's face. But not the sweet smile Kurt loved so much. No, it was the ugly look he imagined was on Finn's face when he'd talked about Puck. And as terrible as the picture was in his head, Kurt knew that actually seeing Finn's face would have been even worse. Because his face was sweetness and light, and even the slightest trace of anything less than that would have left it marred and unrecognizable.

And the thought of his crush being anything short of… Not perfect, but of what he'd come to love made Kurt's chest tighten up painfully.

So painfully that Kurt had to shake his head back and forth to clear away the image. But when he did, memories of the dream he'd had of Puck came filtering back in. All day he'd tried so hard to block them out, to try and push his nighttime escapades to the depths of his subconscious. And for the most part, it had worked. But the moment he'd let down his guard, it had all come rushing back.

But the strangest part was that, even though the dream seemed to be on repeat in his brain, it was the faded t-shirt that affected him the most. Lying on the bed, in front of him it looked so innocent, so ordinary. But just knowing that it was Puck's, that he'd been wearing it…

It just…

Kurt could barely stand to look at it without blushing.

There was just something so innately intimate about having slept in Puck's t-shirt. And though he tried to loofah and exfoliate the feeling away, Kurt could still feel the worn fabric against his skin, almost as if it belonged there. Which was ridiculous because the _only_ fabrics that belonged on his skin were wools, silks, and other upscale materials. 100% cotton simply didn't cut it.

But his excellent fashion taste aside… Kurt found that he wouldn't mind sleeping in the ratty Def Leppard t-shirt again.

And that scared him.

Because Kurt loved Finn. Not Puck. No matter what was going on with Puck, Kurt couldn't, no, he _wouldn't_ love him. He couldn't even _like_ him.

Even if his subconscious was beginning to tell him otherwise.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- I know I keep saying this, but THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed. Your kind words mean so much to me. :duck: And to the lurkers out there, thank you as well. :duck:  
- Quack: Thank you for all of your help. I couldn't do this without you. But if any chiffon heads come after me, I'm sending them in your direction. :D  
- Reviews are love.


	9. Gossip Mongers

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 9: Gossip Mongers**

As it turned out, news traveled fast at good ole McKinley High.

Oh, it wasn't like Kurt didn't already know that. In fact, he knew it quite well. He'd seen it first hand when Coach Sylvester had leaked Quinn's pregnancy. Because even though the coach had out-ed the Cheerio in the middle of the hallway and at the end of school one day, _everyone_ had seemed to know about it by the next morning.

And now, it was happening again.

Only this time, it was worse.

Because, unlike before, _everyone_ in the glee club was involved. And that meant that they were all targets for the rumor mill.

The moment Kurt walked into school on Monday morning, Jacob Ben Israel rushed up to him with a small recorder in hand. And before Kurt could properly blow him off, Jacob pressed the record button and began talking. "So, tell me, Kurt, what _really_ happened -"

"Look, Jacob, it's none of your business." Kurt stopped in the middle of the hallway and was all but sneering at the resident gossip blogger. "And it's no one else's. So just keep your mouth shut." He knew he should have given Jacob a chance, been nicer to him. But Kurt wanted to put a stop to whatever the other boy was planning. And if that meant being a little rude, so be it.

"I… I…" Jacob was stammering, the recorder still poised stupidly under his nose. His eyes were wide, shocked.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have class." Kurt pushed past Jacob, his head held high. He hated to be rude or outright mean, but Kurt wasn't afraid of standing up for what was right either.

He could still remember Jacob blackmailing Rachel about keeping Quinn's pregnancy a secret. Though, according to Rachel, he'd never really planned to release it. Jacob's little scheme had more to do with getting up close and personal with her than anything else. But in the end, the story had gotten out anyway. Not because Jacob had wanted to post it, but rather because he'd been forced.

So Kurt was more than a little shocked that Jacob seemed to be so intent upon digging up even more painful information.

Deep down, Kurt wanted to believe that it had all been a misunderstanding, that Jacob just wanted some juicy tidbits from the party. But as he walked through the crowded hallway, Kurt knew that wasn't the case. Because it seemed like _everyone_ was looking at him and whispering. And from the not so quiet murmuring, Kurt knew they were talking Quinn and the party.

And as self-conscious and sick as that made him feel, it was _nothing_ compared to how Kurt felt when he saw Puck…

Puck's head was bowed low, and his backpack was slung over his shoulder. He was pushing his way through the crowd, ignoring everyone as they turned and stared at him. Their whispers, louder than was really necessary, seemed to make him hunch over more.

And before Kurt could stop himself, he was moving against the flow of students rushing down the hall. A few of them elbowed Kurt while others yelled at him, but he didn't care. He wanted to get to Puck, needed to…

Talk to him? See how he was? Touch him? Honestly, Kurt didn't know _what_ he wanted to do. All he really knew was that he wanted to get to Puck.

But before Kurt could make his way through the sea of students, Miss Pillsbury came walking out of her office. She looked as if she had a purpose, only going so far away from her door. And despite the constant flow of people, Kurt stopped in the middle of the hallway and just watched. Because somehow, he just _knew_ what was going to happen.

And as Kurt stared, the guidance counselor easily maneuvered her way past the students (making sure not to touch anyone or anything) and walked up next to Puck. When she stopped next to him, Puck turned towards her, a look of resignation on his face. Miss Pillsbury smiled sweetly before saying something to Puck.

From where he stood, Kurt couldn't hear what Miss Pillsbury was saying. But Kurt could see her reaching out, trying to place her hand on Puck's shoulder. However, her issues with germs seemed to outweigh her desire to comfort a student, because she pulled her hand back before making contact.

When Puck nodded at her, Kurt hoped that Miss Pillsbury would walk away, would leave Puck where he was. But instead, she turned back towards her office door, beckoning Puck to follow.

And though Kurt willed him not to, wished that he would start walking in the opposite direction, Puck didn't. Instead, he turned and followed the guidance counselor back towards her office door. His head was bowed low again, and he was clutching the strap of his book bag for dear life.

But before he walked through, Puck looked over his shoulder, directly at Kurt. It was only for a second, but Kurt was positive that he'd seen… recognition in Puck's eyes.

Recognition of what, Kurt couldn't be sure. But it was recognition nonetheless.

Caught up in Puck's look, Kurt didn't realize he was going to late for class until the bell for first period rang harshly through the halls. He hadn't even stopped at his locker yet, and Spanish was in the next hall over. And if he wanted to turn in the homework he'd completed during study hall on Friday, he _had_ to stop by his locker.

So, after deciding that a tardy was worse than a zero for the assignment, Kurt set off in the direction of his locker.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Kurt spent the few passing minutes between second and third period looking for Puck. But unfortunately, he was nowhere to be seen. Kurt thought about asking anyone if they'd seen him, but he changed his mind, knowing that his looking for Puck (of all people) would only feed the already overactive gossip mill.

When lunch time came, Kurt walked towards the cafeteria, hoping that maybe he'd overhear something at his usual table. After all, they were all in glee together, and they'd all been at his house over the weekend. So it stood to reason that his friends would probably be talking about what had happened and about Puck.

But just as Kurt was about to walk into the cafeteria, he ran smack into a very solid body. Instantly, he remembered running into Finn much the same way. But this… this was different. There was no hand on his shoulder to steady him or a kind chuckle at the collision.

Instead, Kurt had to regain his balance on his own. And in an effort to do just that, he took a step backward, preparing to tell off whoever had just gotten in his way. But when he looked up, Kurt was shocked to find himself face-to-face with Puck.

Blinking several times, Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but all he could manage was a stutter. "I… I…"

All of the resolve Kurt had felt when he'd seen Puck earlier was gone. And now that he had the other boy infront of him, Kurt wanted to do nothing more than run and hide.

But Puck was looking down at him, his eyes intent, as if there was something he wanted to say. So Kurt forced himself to stay still even though his legs were willing him to flee.

When Puck finally managed to speak, Kurt held his breath. "Uh… I, umh…"

With Puck's voice trailing off, Kurt felt himself exhale slowly. Part of him was dissapointed with what Puck had said. But (a much larger) part of him was also relieved. Because honestly, Kurt didn't know how to react to the stuttering let alone anything else.

As it was, his stomach was in knots, and his mind was reeling. Quick flashes of a stolen kiss and gentle touches peppered with snippets from his dream were speeding through his mind. And it was next to impossible for Kurt to breathe let alone think of anything to say. His heart was pounding painfully against his ribs, and his mouth had gone dry.

And when Puck opened his mouth, as if to say something else, Kurt finally gave into impulses and ran. Well… not _ran_. But he hurried away as quickly as he possibly could, hoping not to draw anymore attention to himself than he already had.

Kurt spent the rest of the day doing everything he possibly could to avoid Puck. And for the most part, that wasn't difficult. After all, they only shared two classes, and that was dealt with easily enough. All Kurt had to do was make sure the seats around his were filled before Puck arrived. Other than that, they crossed paths in a few of the passing periods, but all Kurt had to do was keep his head down and keep walking.

But even though he'd managed to avoid Puck during the day, Kurt knew that that would be impossible during glee club.

And as he walked into the choir room after school, Kurt felt himself fill with a sickening dread that took over his entire body. It started out with a faint sense of nausea and turned into a full on case of jittery hands and sweaty palms.

But thankfully, when he walked in, Puck was already there. He was seated by himself towards the back. He had his cellphone out and looked as if he were reading an upsetting text. His brows were furrowed, and he looked upset.

With Puck there before him, he felt his nerves subside a bit. Kurt could sit wherever he wanted without the fear of Puck walking past him or recreating the scene from lunch. In fact, Kurt was pretty sure that Puck hadn't noticed his arrival at all.

So, feeling himself calm down even more, Kurt took an open seat in the front row next to Mercedes. She had a notebook open on her lap and looked as if she were trying to finish up some homework. He was just about to ask her if she'd been assaulted by Jacob Ben Israel as well when Mr. Schuester came walking into the room.

He was carrying a stack of sheet music in his arms, and he looked grim, the lines around his eyes more prominent than normal. And rather than give everyone a few minutes to settle down, Schu quickly called the group to order. Unsuprisingly, it didn't take long for the room to fall silent. They were all pretty subdued after what had happened over the weekend.

"As you all know, Quinn miscarried over the weekend." Mr. Schuested paused as if it were difficult for him to continue. The piano player, whom Kurt could _only_ think of as Tinkles since April's time in glee, was staring at Schu, his mouth pressed into a sad line. "She's going to take a week off of school, and I hope that you will all respect her wishes during this time."

Kurt, who'd been watching Schuester intently, noticed the man's eyes move towards Puck and linger on him for a few seconds.

And it angered Kurt.

It was almost as if Schu had taken Finn's side, almost as if he thought _Puck_ was soley to blame for the entire baby scandal. Because Schu's eyes were narrowed, as if trying to burn the message into Puck. And sure, Puck had played his part, but it wasn't _all_ Puck's fault.

Schu looked away from Puck, his eyes moving over the rest of the glee club as he continued to talk. However, he didn't stop to pointedly look at anyone else as he had with Puck.

But whatever else Schuester had to say on the subject, Kurt didn't care. He effectively tuned the man out until Mr. Schuester picked up the sheet music and started passing it around.

The rest of rehearsal passed by like normal except for the fact that Kurt couldn't shake his anger at Schuester. He tried to forget about what the man had said and to focus on the paper in his hands. And for the most part, it worked. But whenever he caught sight of Puck out of the corner of his eyes, it all came rushing back.

When it came time for them to leave, Kurt was prepared to grab his bag and run. He wanted to get away from Schuester and the anger the teacher had caused in him. But more than anything, Kurt wanted to get away from Puck.

He'd taken to watching Kurt for the last fifteen minutes of rehearsal, and it was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Why that was, Kurt didn't know, but he wanted more than to be away from Puck's searching gaze.

But before he could make a break for it, Mr. Schuester called them all back. "Oh! I forgot. I've got an assignment for you guys." Everyone in the room groaned, and Kurt was positive that it was due to memories of the mash-up assignment.

But Schu, ever the optimist, didn't seem to get that.

Instead, he just smiled enthusiastically. "Now, guys, I think you'll like this." He looked around the room, obviously trying to build up something resembling excitement. But everyone just stared back at him with stony faces. Rachel included. "Since we need a new set list for Regionals, I thought we could have a Free For All." He looked around the group again as if expecting them to burst into cheers. But when they didn't, Schu's face fell. "I'd like each of you to prepare a song that you think would be good for Regionals. It can be _anything_ you want."

When everyone seemed to perk up (if only ever so slightly) at the prospect of singing their own songs, Mr. Schuester smiled. He'd gotten what he'd wanted from them. So finally, after telling the group that they would be due next week, Schu dismissed them. And despite himself, Kurt felt just a tiny bit excited. He would _finally_ get a chance to redeem himself for the blown high F.

And lost in thoughts of which song to choose, Kurt didn't notice Puck walking towards him until it was to late.

"Hey, umh, Hummel…" Puck's voice was hesitant, borderline nervous. He'd said Kurt's last name as if it were something special. It nowhere neared the reverence of how he'd said it at the party, but it was still amazing. And Kurt found himself reacting to it instantly.

His head whipped around to find Puck standing before him, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. And before Kurt could stop himself, he responded with his own breathy, "Puck." The nerves from earlier had come back in full force. But there was just something in Puck's tone that seemed to soothe Kurt.

"I just…" Puck trailed off as if he didn't quite know how to voice what he wanted to say. And for some reason, that hesitancy calmed Kurt. He was no longer terrified, wanting to escape at all costs. Instead, Kurt wanted to stay with Puck, to be near him. Just like he had that morning before Miss Pillsbury had whisked him away.

Kurt waited for Puck to finish his thought, praying that the moment wouldn't be lost. Because whatever it was, whatever Puck was trying to say, Kurt found that he _really_ wanted to hear it.

So when someone tapped him on the shoulder, just as Puck was about say something, Kurt felt a wave of irritation overtake him. And even though the person who had tapped on his shoulder obviously wanted him to turn around, Kurt didn't. Instead, he stayed facing Puck, silently willing him to continue.

But from the expression on Puck's face, Kurt knew he wouldn't.

Puck's dark eyes had narrowed to slits, and his jaw was clenched together. And before Kurt knew what he was doing, he reached out to Puck. But he never made contact, because Puck stepped back, dropping his eyes to the floor as he did. Feeling rejected, Kurt let his arm drop to his side.

When Puck looked back up, he finally managed to speak. However, what he said wasn't what Kurt was expecting, or hoping, to hear. "You better see what _he_ wants." Puck's voice was low, a mixture of hurt and anger.

"I… What?" Kurt was confused and reeling from Puck's… everything. His step backward, his tone, his whole demeanor. But he turned around anyway, desperate to find some sense in a confusing situation.

When he came face to face with Finn, the confusion he'd just been feeling gave way to shock. And even though Kurt was still desperate to know what Puck had been trying to say, his heart skipped a beat at the sight of the other boy standing before him.

"Hey, Kurt." The sound of Finn saying his name caused Kurt to smile just a bit, which only seemed to encourage Finn. It didn't possess the intensity of Puck's "Hummel," but it was sweet and kind. And for just a moment, Kurt was more than happy to forget the brief glimpse of ugliness he'd seen from Finn the night before. "I was wondering if you'd help me with my song. You were so great with the ballad coaching."

Kurt was just about to answer when Rachel came rushing over. Her brown eyes wider than dinner plates, she looked from Finn to Kurt and then to Finn again. "But Finn, I thought you and I rehearsed together?" Rachel placed her hand over her heart as if it symbolized some bond they'd formed. "After all, we've establised an excellent rapport, and we make a -"

"No, Rachel." Finn cut Rachel off mid-sentence, not even bothering to look at her as he did. Rachel quickly recoiled as if she'd been slapped, mouth turning down in a frown. She looked so hurt, so crushed. And Kurt knew that she must have been, because she didn't argue, didn't try to persuade Finn that _she_ was the better choice. And the sight broke Kurt's heart just a tiny bit.

"I, I want to work with Kurt for a change." Kurt looked from Rachel to Finn. She looked as if she were holding back tears, and he looked as if he didn't care. And Kurt couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't more fallout from the baby drama. Rachel, after all, had been the one to tell Finn about Puck and Quinn. And Kurt couldn't imagine Finn being too pleased with her after that. If Quinn didn't want to see Puck, there was no telling how Finn had treated Rachel since Sectionals.

But before Rachel (or Finn) could say another word, Kurt spoke up, hoping to break the tension. "Of course. I'd be honored. How about early next week? After you've had some time to prepare." For the most part, Kurt was excited about the prospect of spending some alone time with Finn. But there was something, some little niggling doubt that Kurt just couldn't put his finger on. And so, he tried to push it down, to just enjoy the attention.

When Finn began to agree and make further plans, Rachel backed away looking like a puppy with its tail between its legs. The sight was pathetic and caused Kurt to feel just a little guilty. But not guilty enough to turn down Finn. Instead, he smiled up at the other boy and promised to call him later that week.

The second Finn walked away, Kurt turned around, expecting Puck to be there waiting.

But he wasn't.

And the excitement he'd been feeling only a moment ago disappeared, making way for a huge knot of disappointment to settle in the pit of Kurt's stomach.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- To everyone who has been so amazingly kind to me… THANK YOU. I truly, truly appreciate all of the support.  
- Quack: I couldn't do this without you. There isn't anyone else out there that could decode my Franco, Italian as well as you! :duck:  
- Reviews are love.


	10. Just Breathe

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 10: Just Breathe**

Later that night, Kurt went to bed with his head full of thoughts of Finn, Puck, and Rachel. He tossed and turned, trying every trick he knew to clear his muddled brain. Because Kurt needed his beauty sleep, and there was _no way_ he was going to get it if he couldn't clear his head. As it was, he was afraid that he wouldn't get any sleep at all, let alone beauty sleep.

But after counting sheep (313 of them), meditating, and even getting a drink of water, Kurt finally managed to drift off to sleep. However, his dreams were far from peaceful.

It wasn't that his dreams were nightmares. No, they were just… _upsetting_ and hit a little too close to home. In fact, they left him longing for the bizarre serenade of ducks quacking Fleetwood Mac.

For the most part, his dreams were random flashes of what had transpired over the past couple of weeks. Finn and Puck fighting in the choir room.

Rachel's pathetic attempts to steal Finn from Quinn.

Finn carrying a bleeding Quinn up the basement steps.

It was all there, in his head. But there was one dream that bothered in more than all of the rest combined…

Kurt was in the choir room once again, and Puck was standing before him. But unlike that afternoon, Puck wasn't hesitating. Instead, he was speaking, his lips moving quickly but soundlessly. And the only thing Kurt could hear was the thunderous pounding of his own heart.

As he watched Puck's mouth working furiously, Kurt wanted to reach out, grab a hold of Puck's arm, because he was sure that _that_ was the answer.

That touching Puck would somehow break the spell.

But just as Kurt reached out to the other boy, the same tap on his shoulder he'd felt that afternoon came.

Unlike earlier though, Puck didn't prompt Kurt to turn around. Instead, he continued his silent litany, apparently unaware of Finn's presence. It was almost as if Puck could see nothing but Kurt. And even though he didn't want to turn around, Kurt did.

But the person he came face to face with wasn't Finn.

Instead, it was Rachel.

Her face was stark, a painful echo of what it had been earlier. And as her brown eyes plaintively searched Kurt's, she kept repeating one phrase over and over. However, when she spoke, her normally overly perky voice sounded strange, as she begged, "Don't rain on my parade. Don't rain on my parade. Don't rain on my parade…"

Unable to stand the desperation in her eyes any longer, Kurt looked over her head. He didn't care what was behind her, so long as he could escape the pain that Rachel was radiating. Almost mercifully, Kurt found himself staring at Finn.

Finn was standing a few feet behind Rachel. His arms crossed over his chest. And as Kurt watched him, he expected to feel the familiar fluttering of his heart against his ribs. But he didn't. Instead, Kurt felt the traitorous organ fall to the depths of his stomach.

Because Finn wasn't smiling, and he didn't look sweet or kind. Instead, he was wearing the same smug expression that Kurt had caught a glimpse of only once before.

It was the look Kurt had seen when Finn had told him about Quinn not wanting to see Puck.

And it made Kurt sick to his stomach.

The expression, so awful, so unfamiliar, twisted Finn's normally handsome features into an almost unrecognizable mask. And Kurt wanted nothing more than to get away from it.

But just as he went to turn from Finn, to run out of the room, a heavy buzzing filled Kurt's ears. As it grew steadily louder and louder, Kurt couldn't help but think that it sounded like thousands of bees swarming. The noise was so awful that Kurt threw his hands over them in an effort to block it out.

But all the movement served to do was make the irritating sound grow louder and louder until…

Kurt woke with a start, instinctively shaking his head to try and rid himself of the buzzing. He whipped his head vigorously from side to side, managing to crick his neck in the process. He was filled with thoughts of attack bees, an upset Rachel, and a mute Puck. And that was to say nothing about Finn's role in what he'd just seen.

When he finally realized that it was just a dream, Kurt pushed back his bangs with a little more force than was really necessary. Because even though he _knew_ the dream wasn't real, Kurt couldn't help but feel unnerved by it.

Deep down, Kurt understood what the dream meant and why he'd had it. After all, it wasn't like it was _that_ abstract. He would have had to have been stupid not to understand it. But he didn't like the fact that his subconscious saw fit to scramble his memories and serve them up like eggs. He didn't want to see Rachel's look of disappointment in his dreams. And it made him physically uncomfortable to think of such an awful expression on Finn's face.

But most of all, Kurt _did not_ want to dream about Puck.

At all.

And he just wished that…

Before Kurt could figure out what he wanted (or didn't want) from Puck, his cell phone buzzed ominously. And though the noise was soft, the lingering sound of the buzzing in his dream caused Kurt to jump a little.

Irritated with himself and his nerves (or lack thereof), Kurt snatched his cell off of the table beside his bed. Whoever had texted him at three fifteen am (according to the clock on his phone) was in trouble. He didn't care whom it was from or what it was about because at that moment, Kurt was irritated for the sake of being irritated. And someone was going to pay for that.

But when the screen of his phone sprang to life with a soft green glow and he saw an unfamiliar number, Kurt felt his anger give way to confusion. The area code was local, but he didn't recognize the digits.

But still, his curiosity was piqued. Figuring it was just someone with the wrong number, he opened the text, curious to see what it said.

Part of him hoped the text was something really random and ridiculous. After all, Kurt felt like he could deal with a good laugh. But when he read the message, that wasn't what he got.

Shining through the dark, the phone's tiny screen said, "Thanks."

It was only one word, nothing extraordinary, but instantly Kurt knew that it was from Puck. It just… it had to be.

Realistically, Kurt knew that the text could have been from anyone. But he was filled with a bone deep certainty that it wasn't just some misdialed number.

And before he had a chance to think or overanalyze, Kurt punched in a response and hit send. All he typed was, "Welcome." But Kurt knew it was enough. And for some reason, it felt like a beginning. Like the start of something new and quite possibly… good.

What that meant, he didn't know. But something in the very depths of Kurt's soul gave a tiny flutter of excitement at the thought.

After saving Puck's number to his cell, Kurt laid back down. He didn't wait for a response to his text, because honestly, he didn't really expect one. Their texts were short, perfunctory, and didn't require any further explanation. All that mattered was that Puck had finally gotten out what he'd been trying to say. And apparently that was enough to soothe Kurt's subconscious for the night.

The next thing Kurt knew, the alarm on his cell was ringing, letting him know that it was time to get up. As he rolled out of bed, Kurt felt more at ease than he had the past few days. And he was surprised to find just how well rested he felt after the dream and late night texting the night before.

It was a feeling that stayed with him until he got to school.

But the second he walked through the doors, Kurt felt a jittery nervousness seep into his calm aura at the prospect of seeing Puck. Because, as he was getting ready for school (black pants, white shirt, plaid vest), Kurt had made a decision: he was going to talk to Puck. No matter what, Kurt was going to speak to the other boy.

Granted, Kurt had no clue what he was going to say, but he _would_ talk to him.

So Kurt took a few deep breaths in an effort to shake off the sense of doom that was overtaking him. And as he headed towards his locker, he kept up a steady mantra in his head. "Just breathe. Just breathe. Just breathe. Just breathe..."

But in the long run, all of his deep breaths and internal chanting didn't help one bit. Because when he ran into Puck after first period, Kurt was so nervous that he couldn't even bring himself to meet Puck's eyes. So, before Puck could say anything, Kurt pushed his way through the throngs of students, praying he'd be able to disappear into them.

Kurt spent third period (biology) mentally berating himself for his _astounding_ cowardice. He tried to pay attention to the teacher, but the man's voice droned on and on in a toneless wave of garbled sound. All around him, Kurt vaguely noticed people were down notes and raising their hands. But Kurt was lost in his own thoughts.

Unfortunately, his inner turmoil left no room for anything else. And when the teacher called on him to answer a _very_ simple question, Kurt could only stutter as the teacher stared at him expectantly. And as it became obvious that he couldn't answer, the teacher walked away, a look of irritation on his face.

Feeling foolish, Kurt dropped his head towards his notebook, quickly formulating a plan. He knew he should be paying attention, just in case. But Kurt was pretty sure that after that little display, the teacher wouldn't call on him again any time soon.

With a renewed sense of focus and resolve, Kurt stepped into the hallway after class. Just like always he made his way towards his locker for a quick book change. And as he walked, Kurt kept scanning the hallway for Puck, because he _always_ saw Puck between third and fourth period.

Normally, they would cross paths just as Puck was heading out of the history room. The only reason Kurt knew that was because it had long ago become a habit of Puck's to shove Kurt just as they passed one another. But even though Puck had pretty much stopped doing that since joining glee club, Kurt still felt apprehensive whenever they crossed paths.

But today, Kurt was ready for that moment, was anticipating it.

And just like always, the _moment_ Kurt walked by the history room, Puck was there. However, rather than looking like he'd just stepped through the door, Puck was standing by the wall. And if Kurt didn't know better, he would have sworn that Puck was waiting for _him_.

Now, this wasn't the first time that Puck had laid in wait for him. However, that was generally by the dumpster. And whenever Kurt got near him, he could feel the animosity rolling off of Puck.

But right then, right there…

Puck seemed relaxed and comfortable. And the sight of him lounging casually against the wall was like a balm to Kurt's frazzled nerves.

Feeling more confident than he had the past few times he'd tried to talk to Puck, Kurt stopped in front of him. And smiling slightly, Kurt repeated his internal mantra once more before speaking. _"Just breathe…"_

"Hello, Puck." Kurt's voice was breathy, betraying the excitement that had begun to bubble in his stomach. Biting down on his lower lip, he prayed that Puck hadn't noticed.

But unfortunately, Kurt was pretty sure that Puck had picked up on it, because his dark eyes strayed to Kurt's lips for just a fraction of a second. The look caused Kurt's stomach to clench as a bygone memory of their kiss came rushing back. And oddly enough, Kurt felt as if that had happened a million years ago, when in reality, it had been little over a week.

"Hummel." Puck's voice was low, devoid of any emotion. But in his eyes, Kurt saw acknowledgement.

And as Puck stood there, staring at him, Kurt realized that he had absolutely no clue what to say. His master plan had only extended to finding Puck after class and talking to him. Kurt hadn't actually thought about what to say.

As the five minute passing period quickly sped by, Kurt wracked his brain for something, anything. But all that came to mind was the few times they'd touched and the text message from the night before. And neither of those things seemed appropriate for hallway chatter. Especially when Rachel or Mercedes or, Heaven forbid, Finn could come walking by.

From the look on Puck's face, Kurt could tell that he was getting impatient. And before Kurt realized what he was going to say, his mouth was moving of its own volition.

"You umh…" Kurt paused, wondering why his mouth had chosen that moment to become dryer than the desert. "You forgot your t-shirt at my house the… the other night." He hated to even bring up Saturday night, and from the look on Puck's face, he hadn't enjoyed it either.

Kurt thought about apologizing but decided against it, thinking that it would only make the situation worse. And to apologize would mean formally acknowledging, with words, what had happened. And Kurt just didn't think that he could handle that. Not yet anyway.

He watched Puck expectantly, hoping he would say something. But he didn't. Instead, Puck just stood there, staring down at Kurt. And when the silence between them became unbearable, Kurt realized that the other boy wasn't going to help him out. That if Kurt wanted something to happen, _he_ was going to have to make it happen himself.

"So, umh…" Kurt mentally kicked himself and cursed his internal mantra for failing him so spectacularly. Because at that moment, he felt anything but calm as his heart thudded painfully against his ribs and the palms of his hands began to sweat. "If you want, you can… you can come by tonight and pick it up."

As Puck eyed him curiously, Kurt prayed that Puck wouldn't ask him to just bring the shirt to school. Because, for some reason, it seemed crucial that Kurt see him outside of McKinley's stone walls.

When Puck nodded, Kurt had to fight back a huge sigh of relief.

But that feeling was short lived, because the next moment, the class bell was clanging loudly through the hallway. They were both officially late for class. However, Kurt couldn't help but feel like it was totally worth it.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Oh, stop whining, Elena. You've got both Salv-" Kurt stopped mid-sentence, his face flushing tomato red as Puck stood next to the white couch in front of the tv. "Puck. I didn't hear…"

"Your dad let me in. He said you were down here." Puck's eyes flickered around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. Which Kurt found a little odd, but when he followed Puck's gaze, Kurt realized that it looked _way_ different than it had the night of the party. "So, uh, my shirt?"

"Oh, right." Kurt jumped off the couch and thanked the fashion gods that he hadn't changed when he'd gotten home from school. (Oh, he'd taken off his shoes and tie, but Kurt was still impeccably dressed.) Because, somehow, he'd managed to forget that Puck was supposed to stop by.

In retrospect, Kurt realized that he'd been ridiculously busy since school had gotten out for the day. He'd finished his homework while answering phones at his dad's shop. Then after getting home, he'd cleaned his room, worked on his solo for Schu's Free For All and then made dinner. And after that, he'd finally sat down to a rerun of The Vampire Diaries. Horrible and melodramatic as the show was, Kurt had yet to miss an episode.

But even though Kurt realized he'd been running ever since he left school, he _could not_ believe that he'd managed to forget about Puck. It just seemed so impossible. So in the end, he decided to attribute the momentary lapse in memory to stress.

Because really, there was just no other explanation.

And because of that, Kurt was sock footed and scrambling to find some semblance of calm. Making his way over to his bedside table to grab the shirt, he desperately tried to come up with a plan of action. One that had more follow through than his earlier plan, because that one had left him stuttering and grasping at straws.

Because when he'd originally invited Puck over, Kurt hadn't thought about anything beyond getting the other boy into his house. And at the time, that had been his main objective. So he'd used the pretense of returning Puck's t-shirt, which he now regretted.

Because as the moment loomed nearer, Kurt realized just how much he didn't want to give it back.

Since washing and folding the shirt after wearing it, Kurt had placed it on his bedside table. It fit neatly next to the lamp, photo, and tattered copy of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ he kept there. And he didn't really want to give the shirt back. As silly as it was, Kurt had quickly become attached to it.

Now, he didn't spread it out on his bed and pretend it was Puck or anything like that. Because, hello? Creepy much? But he did like having it nearby. (Make of that what you will.)

And now, Kurt had to give the shirt back.

But even though his plan had served its purpose, Kurt hadn't thought about what would happen _after_ he'd handed over the stray article of clothing.

"It's… It's right here." Kurt picked the perfectly folded shirt off of the tiny table. As he held it out to Puck, Kurt's mind reeled in a last minute attempt to come up with something, _anything_ to say in an effort to keep Puck there.

Unfortunately, his mind was totally blank.

Puck reached out and took the Def Leppard shirt out of Kurt's hand, not bothering to look at it. Instead, he stared at Kurt with such intensity that Kurt felt a deep flush burning the tips of his ears.

The look was so full of meaning that Kurt felt as if Puck was begging him for something. And even though Kurt didn't know what the other boy was asking for, he took a deep breath and seized the moment.

Taking a tentative step forward, Kurt reached out and placed his hand on Puck's forearm. And summoning up all of the courage he possessed, Kurt met Puck's gaze.

When Kurt spoke, his voice was a soft whisper. "Stay with me."

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- This chapter was inspired by the _beautiful_ Pearl Jam song "Just Breathe."  
- To everyone who has left me a review, thank you so very much. I can't tell you how much your support means. :duck:  
- Quack: Thanks so much for all of your help. Never again will I ask you to find spots where I could elaborate. :P  
- Reviews are love.


	11. Damon Salvatore vs Dexter Morgan

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 11: Damon Salvatore vs. Dexter Morgan**

"I'm not watching that show again. You can't make me." Kurt stared down at the text on the tiny glowing screen of his cell phone. And as what it said sunk in, Kurt rolled his bleary eyes. It was after midnight, well into the realm of beauty sleep, and he'd been woken up by the insistent buzzing of a text from Puck. While the vast majority of Kurt was irritated at being woken up in the middle of the night for a commentary on his TV watching habits, a tiny part of him was happy to see Puck's name on his phone. Because that meant the time they'd spent together earlier hadn't been _that_ bad.

Even if it had been awkward…

Puck had stayed till around eight thirty, leaving only when Burt had come down to check on Kurt. Both father and son had tried to convince Puck that he could stay a little longer (no later than nine though), but he'd left anyway. He hadn't tried to make up any excuses about homework or his mom. Instead, Puck had just said that it was time for him to get going.

But for the most part, the evening had been… quiet and somewhat tense. Together they'd watched The Vampire Diaries and part of Supernatural. Personally, Kurt didn't like Supernatural (no matter how cute the Winchesters were), but he'd been too afraid to change the channel. Because Puck had looked as if any small thing would make him bolt. And after finally not only speaking to Puck, but getting him back over to his house, that had been the _last_ thing Kurt had wanted to happen.

As it was, the entire time he had been there, Puck had sat on the far end of the couch, his arms crossed protectively over his chest. And Kurt had sat in the middle of the seat, wishing that he could nonchalantly escape to the other side himself. But unfortunately, that just hadn't been possible. So he'd tried to act natural and relaxed, but the task had proven almost impossible. But even though the moment had been as fragile as a soap bubble, it had had a certain rightness about it that had made the tension bearable for Kurt.

Typing in a quick response, Kurt thought about how it had felt to just sit with Puck. It hadn't been comfortable, but it had been nice nonetheless. And in retrospect, Kurt wished that there hadn't been such a large space between them.

Trying not to think about what that meant, he looked at what he'd just typed. His message, short and to the point, read: "Hey! I like VD!" Kurt stared at the screen feeling as if his text was missing something. And before he could stop himself, he hastily punched in another line. "And who says I want to watch TV with you again anyway?"

Before he could change his mind, Kurt hit send, biting down on his lower lip as he did.

The message, though innocent, was flirtier than he'd intended. It was lighthearted and full of moxie, mocking without insulting. Truth be told, it was the type of text he'd always wanted to send to Finn. And even though his crush wasn't on the receiving end, Kurt was positively jittery as he waited for a response.

He was so jumpy in fact that when his phone finally did buzz with an incoming message, Kurt practically dropped the tiny device. Trying to recover a little of his dignity, Kurt closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down a bit. When he felt himself relax just a touch, Kurt opened his eyes again. And with bated breath he opened the message, all but giggling in relief as he read it. "Oh, you do. Sunday night. Your house. My choice."

Unable to bite back the smile that had taken over his face, Kurt willed his hands to quit shaking as he typed in a quick response. Unfortunately though, his wishing for steady hands didn't work. And he ended up re-doing the message five times because all of his efforts ended up reading as if they were in a foreign language. When Kurt finally got it right, the text read, "Fine. 7:00. Dinner. No pizza."

This time, the wait for a response was calmer. But he still felt a quick jolt of excitement when his phone buzzed. This time, Puck's text was much shorter and also had a touch of finality to it. The tiny illuminated screen glowed with just one word. "Chinese."

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

The next morning, Kurt woke up with a feeling of bubbling excitement prickling at his senses. He felt light and giddy, almost as if he were waking up to the most amazing thing possible. And at first, he couldn't quite figure out why that was. But when he rolled over and grabbed his phone to shut off the alarm, it all came rushing back…

Sunday night.

TV.

Chinese food.

It wasn't a date. It _definitley_ was not a date. After all, Puck wasn't gay (or even bisexual), and if by some chance he were, Kurt didn't feel _that_ way about him.. His heart still belonged to Finn.

Even if Kurt _was_ beginning to see a different, not so attractive side of the other boy.

But despite the fact that it wasn't a date, Kurt knew that it was important. Because even though Puck's texts had been light and teasing, Kurt knew better. Since Quinn's miscarriage, Puck had been _very_ down, and even though he'd seemed a _little_ better last night, Puck was far from over what had happened. It was going to take more that a few days for him to truly process and deal with the loss of his child.

And despite all of the times Puck had thrown Kurt in the dumpster or inflicted some other form of torture on him, Kurt found that he wanted to be there for Puck. He wanted to see if he could try and help somehow.

Even if helping meant nothing more than DVD's and Chinese food.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

When Kurt walked into school that morning, he expected to see Puck… not waiting near his locker or anything like that. But Kurt thought he'd atleast see Puck in the halls or maybe coming out of Miss Pillsbury's office or something like that. After all, that was normal. They passed one another in the halls every day.

However, Kurt didn't see or run into Puck until lunchtime.

And with each passing period, Kurt became more and more nervous. Why, he didn't know. It wasn't like anything had really happened the night before, but he was uptight nonetheless. And nothing he did, deep breaths, staring at Finn, mentally critiquing all of the teachers' choice of fashion (if you could call it that), etc. had helped. Unfortunatley, it had even gotten to the point where he'd grown so hyperaware of his surroundings and everyone around him that he jumped whenever a shaved head came into view.

But when Kurt walked into the lunch room and saw Puck waiting in line by the slushee machine, he felt all of that drain away.

Because all that mattered was that Puck was there, in front of him.

Kurt didn't go over to him, didn't even feel like going over. Because somehow, just knowing that Puck was ok was enough. So he just walked on by, heading towards the lunch line instead.

But when he looked back over his shoulder, Kurt's heart gave a little jump. Because Puck was staring at him, his eyes warm and soft lips almost smiling. And before Kurt could stop himself, before he could play it cool, he gave a small smile back before he turned and continued towards the lunch line.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

For the rest of the day, Kurt was constantly filled with a feeling of being watched or followed. But oddly enough, it wasn't unpleasent or creepy, because Kurt was all but positive that it was Puck's presense he was feeling. Because every once in a while he'd look around in the halls or during the two classes they shared and he'd find that Puck was _much_ closer to him than normal.

When the last bell of the day rang, signaling that school was out until Monday, Kurt gathered his books and headed towards the door to leave. And much to his surprise, Puck walked over to stand next to him in the line to get out of the room.

Puck didn't speak, but from the way his body was angled towards Kurt, Kurt knew he'd stood there on purpose. And as the crowd began to move forward, Kurt wracked his brain for something to say, because even though Puck's nearness wasn't uncomfortable, his silence was.

"So, what do you think will be able to top Damon Salvatore?" It sounded lame, of that Kurt was certain, but it was something nonetheless.

For the first time since Puck walked over, he looked down at Kurt. He still looked upset, but there was also a glint of mischief in his eyes. It was a look that Kurt hadn't seen on the other boy in quite a while. And it wasn't until that moment that Kurt realized he'd missed it.

"Think? No, I _know_ that what I've got in mind will top anything on that show you watch." Puck's voice was flat, but Kurt could still sense a tiny drop of excitement in it.

The next thing he knew, the line had thinned out without Kurt realizing it, and when he looked away from Puck, he was surprised to see that there was no one blocking the door anymore. And Puck seemed to notice this as well, because the next second he was ushering Kurt ahead of himself and out into the hall.

Kurt hesitated at the gesutre, but only for a moment before walking through the door. Instinctively, he headed towards his locker, and suprisingly enough, Puck walked along next to him. And even though the hallway was pretty crowded, no one seemed to care or even notice that they were walking together. Though, Kurt was pretty sure that if Mercedes were to see them together, she'd have something to say about it. And he could only hope that she was busy with something, _anything_ else.

"Well then, what is it?" They'd reached Kurt's locker (without a Mercedes spotting), and as Puck leaned against the one next to his, Kurt found his curiosity piqued.

Before, he hadn't really cared what Puck thought would top The Vampire Diaries. Because really, if he were being honest with himself, it wouldn't take all that much to outdo his show. That was not to say he didn't love it though, because he did. But when it came down to it, The Vampire Diaries wasn't much more than soap opera with fangs.

And really, in the grand scheme of things, all that really mattered was that Puck was coming over. But, now… Kurt found that he really was kind of curious to find out what Puck thought was worthy of watching. And as he waited for an answer, Kurt spun the dial on his locker's padlock.

"Ha." It wasn't a laugh but rather a literal pronunciation of the word. "_So_ not telling." Puck looked over at Kurt and arched his eyebrows before turning back to the kids walking down the hall.

"Not fair!" Kurt responded with mock outrage that caused the corners of Puck's mouth to twitch. And at the sight, Kurt was overcome with the childish desire to stick out his tongue.

But the moment he saw Finn walking towards his locker, that feeling disappeared. And it was quickly replaced by an uneasy queasiness that seemed to take over his entire body. Next to him, Puck had obviously noticed Finn as well. Because even though Puck hadn't moved, Kurt could see a tension in his body that hadn't been there only moments before.

And for the first time since falling for Finn, Kurt wished that he would just go away.

Because a second ago, Kurt had been enjoying himself, had been having fun with Puck. Where as now, Kurt was filled with worry that Puck was going to disappear like he had the other day. And Kurt was pretty sure that if Puck did try to run, a simple hand on the arm wouldn't be enough to stop him. So Kurt could only hope that Puck would stay put when Finn stepped up next to them.

"Hey, Kurt." Finn sounded falsely bright, as if he were putting on some sort of show. And Kurt couldn't help but wonder who the audience was supposed to be – himself or Puck?

"Finn." Kurt regarded Finn cooly over the edge of his Spanish book. He didn't know why, but Kurt suddenly felt as if he were on the defensive.

At Kurt's cool tone, Finn's eyes flickered over to Puck for just a second. And when he spoke again, Finn sounded even brighter (and faker) than before. "So… Schuester's assignment. You said you'd help me."

"Oh, right." In the wake of everything else, Kurt had totally forgotten about that. Not about the prospect of singing a solo (_without_ the pressure of it being a competition) because he totally had his practiced to perfection. (It was Lady Gaga, of course.) No, Kurt had totally and completely forgotten about helping Finn. But that was only because he'd just had so much else (read: Puck) on his mind.

As Kurt tried to look as if he hadn't forgotten a thing, Finn was watching Kurt expectantly, and there was a slight trace of irritation on Finn's face. He'd obviously realized that Kurt hadn't remembered. And once again, his eyes flickered over to Puck.

"Umh, well, it's due next Thursday." Kurt was quickly trying to diffuse what was growing into a tense situation. Because next to him, Puck was relaxing, almost as if he felt more confident than he had before, where as Finn was growing slowly but steadily more agitated. And Kurt _did not_ want to be around when _that_ storm came crashing down. Which, Kurt could tell just by looking at the two of them, it inevitably would. "So how about after school on Tuesday?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. We can practice in the auditorium." Finn was eyeing Kurt with something akin to disbelief in his eyes. It was almost as if Finn realized that there was something goining on and was searching for some tangible sign of it. But Kurt couldn't have cared less. Because, for the time being at least, the clouds had parted.

"That sounds good. I'll meet you there." Despite the fact that Kurt still felt nervous and edgy, he forced himself to smile. (Or to try to anyway. There was no guarantee that it didn't look like a grimace.)

"Ok. I'll see you then." Finn awkwardly patted Kurt on the shoulder, pointedly ignoring Puck. And when he turned and walked away, Kurt sighed in relief.

Next to him, Puck smiled the same devious little smile that had made Kurt want to stick out his tongue only a few minutes ago. But this time, Puck's smile was aimed at Finn's retreating back and the kindness was gone from his eyes.

And as Kurt grabbed another book out of his locker, he wished that he still felt the same way.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Hi, I'd like to place an order, please." Kurt flipped the Wok Inn's menu over in his hands, studying the colorful pictures of plates of food. Normally, he hated take-out for dinner, preferring to make something himself. But sometimes he had to resort to ordering in. And as he didn't know how to make Chinese food, this was one of those times. "Delivery. Hummel. At 1965 Cherry Tree Lane."

When Puck had declared that he wanted Chinese food, Kurt had thought nothing more of it other than, "My skinny jeans will never forgive me for this." But when Sunday night rolled around, Kurt realized that they hadn't discussed _who_ was going to be providing said food.

Kurt had thought about calling Puck and asking, but since they hadn't even texted since saying goodbye after school on Friday, Kurt decided not to. It just felt too weird.

"I'd like two order of egg rolls and…" Kurt scanned the menu quickly, wishing he knew what Puck liked. For all he knew, Puck kept Kosher. And because of that, he decided that he'd rather err on the side of caution than end up with something Puck couldn't eat. "Umh, a small chicken fried rice, a small beef chop suey, and a small vegetable lo mein."

Forty-five minutes later, Kurt had set up his father's dinner (the beef chop suey and two of the egg rolls) and left it on the counter with the hopes that his dad would take the hint. At that moment, Burt was at Uncle Mike's house, but he'd be home soon enough. And Kurt _hadn't_ mentioned Puck coming over to him. Kurt didn't know why, but he just hadn't been able to bring himself to tell his dad about the other boy visiting again.

So, as he walked downstairs to set out the food and drinks for himself and Puck, Kurt prayed that his dad would notice the truck out front and and the food waiting for him and realize that Puck was over without having to explain.

Now, he knew that if Puck started coming over more he'd probably have to explain eventually, but Kurt figured that the longer he could put it off, the better. Because really, he just didn't know _what_ was going on himself. But for tonight… Kurt just hoped that he could keep things to himself.

A few minutes later, the doorbell chimed upstairs, causing Kurt's stomach to leap. And though he would deny it, Kurt all but ran up the steps to get to the door. But even though he'd raced up there, Kurt took a few deep calming breaths before pulling the door open. As he did, he ran one shaking hand over his perfectly coifed hair before smoothing a few non-existent wrinkles out of his shirt.

When he finally opened the door, Kurt's mouth fell open at the sight of Puck.

Puck was standing on the porch, a white DVD case stuck under his arm. And in each hand, he held a small brown sack of food. He was looking down at the bags as if he was worried about dropping them, but when he looked up, Puck's eyes quickly took in Kurt's appearance. And Kurt couldn't have been happier that he'd taken the time to pick out the perfect outfit.

Smiling slightly, Kurt motioned for Puck to come inside. And as he stepped in, Puck said, "I hope you like sweet and sour pork and General Tao's chicken."

Taking the bags from his arms, Kurt couldn't stop himself from saying, "I hope you like chicken fried rice, vegetable lo mein, and egg rolls."

At his words, Puck just looked at him and laughed before heading towards the basement, opening the DVD case as he went. He moved with an ease and familiarity that made Puck look as if he felt at home, and that caused Kurt to smile. And he liked that more than he cared to admit.

"So…" Kurt took the small white cartons out of the brown bags and placed them on the small coffee table he'd placed in front of the couch. Puck had gone straight for the DVD player and popped in a disc. "What are we watching?"

Puck turned around and stared at him, his dark eyes hooded and dangerous. And for just a second, Kurt felt a pang of fear flash through his body. The second Puck parted his lips to speak, Kurt found himself swallowing desperately. But when Puck finally did speak, Kurt realized that it had only been an act. Because all Puck said was… "Dexter."

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- To all of my readers and reviewers, thank you for your continuing support and amazing faith in this story.  
- Quack: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. :duck:  
- **Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	12. Cloudy Chance of Tension

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 12: Cloudy – Chance of Tension**

"Tonight's the night. And it's going to happen again and again. Has to happen." Michael C. Hall's voice filled Kurt's basement, seeming to swirl in the air like a thick fog. And for just a moment, Kurt felt self-conscious as the words washed over him. Oh, Kurt knew that Dexter wasn't speaking to him about Puck, that he was talking about killing someone. But the words and their possibility made the hairs on the back of Kurt's neck stand up nonetheless.

"Pass the soy sauce?" Puck, on the other hand, didn't seem to find it ironic at all.

Mentally berating himself for being ridiculous, Kurt leaned forward and plucked the half-empty bottle off of the small table. And as he did, he took great care not to drop his plate on the floor. Because he had absolutely no desire to clean Chinese food off of the small accent rug he'd just purchased.

As he sat back, the rug safe, Kurt handed the sauce over to Puck. And even though he was holding the bottle out to Puck, his attention was split between balancing his dinner and the television screen, because after that opening, he was intrigued.

Dexter was driving down a crowded street, talking about his love for Miami and Cuban food. The electric sights and sounds of a hot Miami night had pulled Kurt's thoughts away from the bottle of sauce that was still in his hand. But when Puck's fingertips slid over Kurt's as he reached for the bottle, all of Kurt's attention was pulled towards the contact.

He froze instantly, aware of Puck in a way he hadn't been only moments before. Somehow, the other boy felt more… real now that they'd touched.

Puck was no longer just an idea; he was real person who could touch and be touched. And pressed against Kurt's skin, Puck's fingers were soft, tentative as if he were unsure of what he was doing. Unlike the times they'd touched before, this was an accident. Neither of them had planned it; it was a pure and honest brush of fingers that held no deeper meaning or significance. And that terrified Kurt while thrilling him at the same time. Because as Puck's hand covered Kurt's, he realized that he wanted _more_. But of what, Kurt was scared to admit. Even to himself.

And before Kurt could stop himself, he looked over at Puck.

When he turned, he hadn't thought about what he'd find. Because much to Kurt's surprise, Puck was staring at him, and there was something akin to confusion in his dark eyes. It was almost as if he was unsure or afraid. Why that was, Kurt didn't know, but he could tell that Puck was asking for reassurance nonetheless.

With their fingertips still touching, Kurt smiled softly, shyly. Across from him, Puck stared back, the apprehension draining slowly from his eyes. And for just a second, Kurt allowed his hand to remain under Puck's. He allowed himself a moment to just _feel_.

Which Kurt found wasn't difficult because all of his attention was zeroed in on what he was experiencing. Against the back of Kurt's knuckles, Puck's fingertips were warm and heavily calloused from years of strumming his guitar. The rough skin against his own smooth hand caused Kurt's breath to quicken and the tips of his ears to burn.

And even though Kurt hated to do it, he pulled his fingers out from under Puck's, dropping his gaze as he did so. He wanted to leave his hand under the other boy's, he _really_ did, but Kurt wasn't sure he could handle what that meant. After all, he still felt for Finn. Sure, they may have been changing, but they were still there. So he's pulled away, looking down at his food as he did.

But even though his face was no longer turned towards the other boy, Kurt was still trying to sneak a peek at him. And out of the corner of his eye, Kurt could see Puck shaking the bottle over his lo mein and fried rice, the corners of his mouth twitching, as if he were trying to hold back a smile.

Kurt instantly found himself wanting to ask Puck what he was smiling about. But he quickly decided against it, figuring that he might not want to know the answer. So rather than say anything, Kurt turned back to his food and picked up his chopsticks. Working them with a skill and precision that had taken years to come by, Kurt twisted the bamboo sticks around his lo mein and pulled out a few noodles. And while Kurt delicately lifted them to his lips, Puck savagely speared a chunk of chicken with his fork.

When they'd first ladled out their dinner, each taking a little of everything, Kurt had offered Puck a pair of chopsticks. But Puck had refused on the grounds that they were for wusses. Personally though, Kurt had been pretty sure that Puck just didn't know _how_ to use them. But now, watching as Puck shoveled food into his mouth with a fork, Kurt tried to imagine the other boy using chopsticks.

And it just didn't fit.

So he kept his mouth shut, rolling his eyes as Puck stabbed at his plate.

Just short of an hour later, Kurt and Puck were both settled back into the couch, having placed their empty plates among the half-empty food cartons on the small coffee table. They'd paused _Dexter_ for a few minutes for a bathroom break and to get refills on their drinks. And somehow, when they'd resituated themselves on the couch, they'd ended up much closer than when they'd started out.

Unlike before, Puck was sitting almost in the middle of the white sofa, legs spread wide and his arms across the back of the couch. Kurt had sat to his left, his legs pulled up underneath himself, and they were so close that their knees were touching ever so slightly. And with Puck's arms draped over the back of the couch, Kurt almost felt as if Puck had his arm around him. It was comfortable and left him feeling content as the murderous story played out on the screen before them.

For the most part, Kurt had been able to handle the grisly show, but when a severed head came flying across the screen, Kurt gave an involuntary shudder. At this moment, Puck looked over, a slight trace of concern in his voice.

"You cold?" Puck _had_ asked a question, but he didn't wait for Kurt to respond before hopping off the couch.

The second Puck left his side, Kurt wished he was back on the couch next to him. Because now, unlike when he'd shivered at the TV show, he _did_ feel cold. But Kurt didn't just feel cold.

No, he felt alone as well.

But before Kurt could say a word, Puck plopped back down on the couch next to him, Kurt's mother's blanket in his hands.

"Here…" Puck's voice was low and slightly distracted as he unfolded the soft grey throw.

As Puck spread out the blanket, Kurt stared at him in amazement. Part of Kurt wanted to ask Puck what he was doing, but a much larger part of him was afraid that if he so much as breathed too hard, Puck would disappear. Because it all seemed too good to be true. But then again, since sectionals, _everything_ had changed.

And for the very first time, Kurt realized that not _all_ of those changes were bad.

Marveling at that realization, Kurt just watched Puck in amazement and a bit of worry. Because his newly found knowledge opened up so many doors, doors that Kurt wasn't sure if he was ready to walk through or not. And when the blanket fell across Kurt's lap, he reached out and pulled the edge closer to himself. Kurt wasn't really cold but filled with uncertainty, and he craved the familiarity and comfort of his mother's gift.

Sliding his hands over the yarn that had been lovingly worked into intricate patterns, Kurt felt himself relax ever so slightly. "Thank you, I…" Kurt's voice trailed off as his clear blue eyes went wide as saucers.

Puck was sitting back down on the couch, pulling the other half of the blanket over his own legs. And after settling in, Puck turned to Kurt as he stretched his right arm back over the top of the couch. But instead of putting the arm closest to Kurt back over the top of the couch, he left it at his side. And as their eyes met, Kurt was surprised to see an unfamiliar warmth in Puck's gaze.

"Better?" When Puck spoke, Kurt could tell that he was genuinely concerned.

"Much." Kurt didn't say anything else, instead he just turned back to the screen as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

When Kurt looked back at the television screen, he found himself staring at a small doll head with bright red, curly hair fanned out like a fiery halo around it. It was stuck to a stainless steel door almost as if it were a present. And as Dexter flicked the tiny head, Kurt realized that, despite what had happened with the blanket, he was a little worried about what was in the freezer.

So worried in fact that he found himself unconsciously leaning towards Puck.

And when Dexter flung open the freezer door to reveal the rest of the doll's body cut into sections and tied up with neat little red bows and a tiny mirror in one hand, Kurt felt his mouth fall open.

The next thing Kurt knew, the credits were rolling, a spunky Cuban rhythm a serious contrast to what he'd just seen. It was just so…

"Well?" Puck was looking at him expectantly.

The credits were still going, but the music had changed to something more somber and ominous.

And despite the shock of what he'd just seen, Puck's excitement was contagious, and Kurt just couldn't stop himself. "What happens next?" Kurt was smiling slightly, a touch of expectation in his eyes.

Obviously please with Kurt's response, Puck just grinned as he hit "Next" on the episode menu screen.

As the next episode, "Crocodile," began, Puck slouched down into the couch, his shoulder pressing into Kurt's. The slight touch, so comfortable and natural, caused a tiny smile to tug at the corners of Kurt's mouth. And in an effort to hide it, he bit down on his lower lip, settling into Puck's shoulder as he did.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Hey, did you see -" Mercedes was standing next to Kurt's locker, her face anxious.

"That Quinn is back?" Kurt cut her off mid-sentence. He just _did not_ think he could handle hearing that question (or any variation thereof) again today.

Because ever since setting foot on the school's parking lot that morning, Kurt had heard _nothing_ but whispers about Quinn. He'd heard five different versions of what had happened at his party, none of them even remotely close to what had occurred. He'd also heard (what he hoped were) wild tales about Puck storming into the hospital, threatening nurses and doctors alike, demanding to see Quinn and how Finn had stood gallantly by her side. And there were other rumors as well, _lots_ of other rumors.

But when it came down to it, there was only one that Kurt believed with any certainty.

And that was that, after a week off, Quinn was back.

Of course, the only reason he believed that one was because he'd seen her earlier.

"Yes, I saw." Even to his own ears, Kurt knew he sounded grim.

It wasn't that he wasn't happy Quinn was doing better. Because he was, he really was. But it also terrified him. And it was a terror that had managed to seep into the very depths of his being, twisting and curling itself around his muscles and nerves. But the thing that bothered him the most about her presence was that it left him unsure of where it left him with Puck. As melodramatic as that sounded, Kurt had no other way to describe how Quinn's return made him feel.

Because whenever he saw her walking through the halls or in class, Kurt immediately thought of Puck and the time they'd spent together. And those spasms of memory would cause tiny jolts of pain to shoot through his body. It was a pain that spoke of heartbreak and longing, loss and the intoxicating promise of possibility.

And Quinn's presence made Kurt realize just how fragile the thing he shared with Puck really was because… she could so easily take all of it away from him.

Kurt wasn't stupid; he knew that Puck cared for her beyond the thrills of a one-time fling. That much was evident in the way he looked at the blonde. But over the past two weeks (had it _really_ been only two weeks?), something had begun to grow between Kurt and Puck. It was tenuous and incredibly confusing, but…

Kurt wasn't ready to let it go.

Even if he still didn't know what _it_ was.

And so, it was with great trepidation that he accepted Quinn's return.

"So… what do you think is gonna happen?" Mercedes' voice was low, but it lacked the conspiratorial tone with which she normally relayed gossip. And Kurt knew that that was because this time, the drama was too close to home. Oh, she hadn't had any problem telling the entire glee club that Finn wasn't the one who'd gotten Quinn pregnant. But _this_ was another thing altogether. And thankfully, she seemed to understand that.

Closing his locker door, Kurt looked into his best friend's eyes. And even though he _knew_ she was referring to Puck, Quinn, and Finn, Kurt could only think of himself, of the time he'd spent with Puck and the tiny unknowable thing that was growing between them. And as he thought of that, Kurt realized something...

He _hadn't_ told Mercedes a single thing about what was going on with Puck.

But more importantly, Kurt realized that he didn't _want_ to tell her about it.

Mercedes was his best friend, and he didn't want to tell her about the kiss or Puck sleeping over on his couch. He didn't want to tell her about the Def Leppard t-shirt, _Dexter_, or the Chinese food. Why that was, he didn't know, and that bothered Kurt.

A lot.

After all, Mercedes was his best friend, his other half and ever other possible cliché imaginable. And since becoming friends, they'd spent so much tome together going to the mall and out to the movies and things like that. Together they'd bonded over being outcasts and the inability to fit in and they'd found their own little niche together. But now, after everything between them, Kurt couldn't even bring himself to mention that he didn't hate Puck, let alone anything else him.

And in an effort to stall for time, Kurt reached out and laced his arm through Mercedes', pulling her close to his side. Her question was still hanging in the air, but he had his own thoughts and worries to contend with. And truthfully, even if he could devote all of his attention to his best friend's question, he knew he wouldn't have had an answer for her.

So rather than try to come up with some profound response, Kurt sighed deeply before speaking. And when he finally did, his voice was weary and tired. His words, simple and to the point, satisfied Mercedes' question and summed up his own worries at the same time. "I wish I knew."

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Ok, guys. I think we've got the song down pretty well. So I think we're ready to try some choreography. I'd like for the girls to stand on the right, boys on the left. Rachel…" Mr. Schuester's voice droned on and on, laying out an all too familiar pattern of positions.

As Kurt moved to the back row between Matt and Mike, he wondered if just maybe Schu had done that on purpose. It was almost liked he'd thought that having everyone stand in familiar spots doing re-hashed choreography would make them feel safe and secure.

But really, it wasn't just about the recycled dance moves. In fact, the whole let's-create-a-warm-and-welcoming-environment mode of thinking had been in effect since glee practice started fifteen minutes ago.

Everyone, _especially_ Mr. Schuester, had gone out of their way to dance around (pardon the pun) Quinn.

Brittany was glued to her side, occasionally attempting to fluff some life into Quinn's defeated blonde curls. And Quinn just sat next to her, closing her eyes tightly as if the tiny touches caused her physical pain in some way. She'd wince and wrap her arms around her stomach protectively, as if trying to protect herself.

And when she wasn't flinching away from Brittany, Quinn looked awful. Her normally shiny hair was dull and pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her wasted frame was engulfed by a dress that had once served to hide her swollen belly. It didn't take more than a cursory glance to tell that she should have been home in bed and _not_ at school.

But as practice continued on, everyone did their part to try and make Quinn feel welcome. Mike even rubbed her shoulders while Artie showed off a new wheelchair trick that elicited a small, watery smile from her.

Kurt tried to think of something to say to Quinn, but every time he looked over towards her, his thoughts drifted back to Puck.

Since Quinn had walked into the choir room, _everyone_ had ignored Puck. Even Tinkles had looked away when Puck had stepped into the room a few minutes after Quinn. Kurt had wanted to catch Puck's attention, to acknowledge what had happened the night before, but Puck had been totally and completely, one hundred percent focused on Quinn. So much so that Kurt had felt as if he could see every last bit of Puck straining to be near her.

And that cut Kurt deeper than he cared to admit.

Unable to stand the sight of Puck staring at Quinn any longer, Kurt turned away. But when he did, the sight that met Kurt's gaze was _much_ worse.

Because, as it turned out, Kurt wasn't the only one who had noticed Puck staring at Quinn.

Across the room, Finn was standing next to Artie, who was practicing his wheelchair version of pivots and stomps. Finn, however, wasn't moving. Instead, he was standing stock still as he glared at Puck. And Kurt knew that if he could see Finn's eyes, they'd be narrowed in anger.

But what neither Kurt nor Finn saw was that Quinn was growing increasingly upset. They'd both been too focused on other people to realize what was going on until she sobbed, "I'm sorry, but I can't…" and ran toward the door. Brittany quickly followed her, disappearing into the hall, leaving everyone stunned into shocked silence.

As the door slammed shut, Kurt didn't need to look around the room to know that _something_ was going to happen. Where the room was filled with solidarity and support only a few moments ago, it was now filled with a cloud of tension so thick Kurt swore he could feel it crackling just beneath his skin.

And as Finn advanced on Puck, who was still staring at the door, Kurt realized that he was unprepared for the storm that was about to fall.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- The opening dialogue is from the series premiere of _Dexter_.  
- To the readers and the reviewers your comments make me smile, laugh and everything in between. But most of all, they make me want this story to be as good as it can possibly be. Thank you so much for the continued support.  
- Quack: Thank you for being an amazing beta and friend. I couldn't do this without you. :duck:  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	13. Pocket Squares

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 13: Pocket Squares**

"You…" Finn's voice was low and dangerous, almost a growl. And if it hadn't been for the fact that Tinkles had stopped playing, Kurt wouldn't have heard it at all. In fact, none of the glee club would have. As it was, Mr. Schuester was still staring at the door as if he was trying to decide whether or not he should go after Quinn and Brittany.

Puck was also staring at the door, but Kurt could tell that he wasn't going to go after the two girls. Instead, he was rooted to his spot, his shoulders slumped in defeat. And on his face was a look that was a sickening mixture of loss and confusion. It was a look that Kurt hadn't seen since that night at the hospital. And it made him feel sick to his stomach.

When Puck didn't turn around to face Finn, Finn balled his hands into fists and charged towards him with fierce determination. Kurt wanted to call out to Puck, to try and warn him. But just like everyone else in the room, he was frozen, doomed to witness the spectacle that was playing out but not participate.

"This… This…" Finn reached out and spun Puck around so that they were facing one another. Not knowing what was going on behind him, Puck spun around willingly, not resisting or fighting back.

When they came face to face, Finn was practically shaking with rage as Puck looked at him with confused and upset eyes. It was clear from the look on Puck's face that he had no clue what was going on.

Which only seemed to upset Finn more.

"This is all _your_ fault." Finn's voice was trembling as he spat the words at his ex-best friend. Puck didn't react, or maybe he couldn't react, but either way, Puck just stared at Finn as if he had just realized who was confronting him.

Unable to move, Kurt just watched in horror as Finn raised one balled up fist.

And even as it happened before him, Kurt was positive that he saw the punch coming before Puck did. Because Puck was still staring at Finn, a look of utter confusion twisting Puck's face as he tried to figure out what was going on.

The second Finn threw his punch, Puck's eyes widened in shock; he didn't even have time to try and defend himself. And when Finn's fist connected with Puck's lower lip, a sickening thud echoing through the room, Puck staggered backwards and fell into one of the plastic chairs.

Puck's lower lip was gleaming scarlet, and Kurt couldn't stop himself from staring at it, at Puck. From somewhere off in the distance, Kurt vaguely noticed that someone was crying (most likely Rachel) and that Mr. Schuester was yelling. How long this had been going on, Kurt didn't know, or care.

Because right at that moment all that mattered was that Puck was hurt and alone.

And despite all of the noise and the flurry of commotion filling the room, Kurt's blue eyes were locked on Puck. He was awkwardly slumped in the chair. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as if he was winded even though he hadn't been running. And Puck's hand was now pressed to his freshly split lip, hiding the blood Kurt knew was there.

But even though the bleeding bothered Kurt, it was the look in Puck's eyes that truly gripped his heart. Because Puck was staring at him, his eyes full of pain and grief, and he was begging Kurt to do something, _pleading_ with him. And there was no way that Kurt could just stand there, knowing that Puck _needed_ him.

Not thinking twice, Kurt crossed the room to where Puck was sitting. And just as he reached out to pull Puck's hand away from his lip, Kurt heard the room go silent. Mr. Schuester stopped yelling, and Rachel's sobs seemed to have abated. Even the random scuffing of sneakers on linoleum and senseless teenage babble died away.

And the sudden lack of sound was so shocking, so abrasive, that Kurt found himself spinning around to see what had happened.

The sight that met Kurt's eyes took his breath away.

Everyone, Mercedes included, was clustered around Finn as if he was the center of the universe. But even though people surrounded him, Kurt could see that Finn's face was beet red and his chest was rapidly rising and falling just like Puck's. And as they stood around Finn, the rest of the glee club was staring at Kurt as if he was a stranger rather than someone whose house they'd gone to for a party.

But of everyone surrounding Finn, it was Rachel and Mercedes' reactions that bothered Kurt the most.

Unsurprisingly, Rachel was pressed against Finn's side, his right fist held adoringly in her tiny hands. She seemed to be torn between crying and trying to tend to Finn. And from where Kurt was standing, he could see that Finn's knuckles were red but otherwise unharmed. So there was really nothing for her to do other than cry over his knuckles. And it jut shocked Kurt to the core that after the way Finn had treated her, she would still be willing to run to Finn's aid, to treat him as if he were perfect. Which made Kurt wonder if just maybe Rachel wasn't as confident and secure with herself as she would like everyone to believe.

But Mercedes… she was even worse than Rachel.

Standing on Finn's other side, Mercedes looked as if she'd chosen a side in some unnamed battle. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her face was twisted into a mask of revulsion and confusion.

Kurt was so shocked to see her anger that he nearly flinched back in pain. Mercedes, after all, had been so intent on Kurt befriending Puck. She was the one who had been trying to get Kurt over his thing for Finn. In fact, Kurt was pretty sure that after sectionals she'd all but made it her mission in life to find him someone _other_ than Finn.

And now, there she was, standing at Finn's side, staring at Kurt like he'd just committed the most heinous act of betrayal imaginable.

"Kurt?" Mercedes sounded shocked, accusing. It was clear that what she was really saying was, "Have you lost your mind? Get over here _now_." And as her unspoken demand hung in the air, no one else made a sound. They were obviously waiting to see what Kurt would do.

"Mercedes." Kurt's voice was cold, colder than it had been towards her since they'd become friends. And just like Mercedes' question had held more, so too did his sentence. Lying underneath the one word was, "You've made your choice and so have I."

Mercedes simply stared at him, her eyes growing larger and larger as she realized that Kurt wasn't about to leave Puck's side. All around them, there were little scoffs and hisses of shock. Apparently no one had expected Kurt to choose Puck over his best friend.

Ignoring everyone else, Kurt held her gaze, not once breaking eye contact as he reached over and placed his hand on Puck's shoulder.

Still not looking away from his best friend, Kurt gave Puck's shoulder a small squeeze before whispering, "Come on."

Puck, thankfully, didn't say a word. Instead, he just stood up, his hand still over his bleeding lip. And without another word, they walked out of the choir room together, everyone staring at them as they went.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"I'm sorry!" Kurt pulled his hand back as Puck hissed in pain.

Puck's bottom lip was split open on the left side, and it was bleeding. Not a whole lot, but enough. And the area around that side of his mouth was red and slightly puffy. Finn had managed to get in a pretty good shot, and Puck was going to have the bruise to prove it. But for now, Kurt just wanted to get the bleeding stopped.

After walking out of the choir room, Kurt had followed his feet, allowing them to lead him wherever they wanted. And when Kurt had finally found himself walking into the boy's locker room, he had realized that there was no better place in the school for them to be. Because football season was over, and basketball season hadn't started yet so there had been no fear of being interrupted. Also, they had been so far away from the choir room that Kurt hadn't thought anyone would go that far to look for them. So really, it had been perfect.

Now, Puck was sitting next to one of the many porcelain sinks, his head resting against the tiled wall.

Just a second ago his eyes had been peacefully shut, but now they were scrunched up in pain. And Kurt couldn't help but cringe as well, because he knew the pain he saw on Puck's face was _his_ fault. Because Kurt had tried to be gentle, but apparently he hadn't been careful enough.

Unable to stand the pain in Puck's face any longer, Kurt turned towards the faucet and turned on the water. Without checking the temperature, he shoved the blood stained cloth he'd been holding to Puck's mouth under the steady stream.

The small square of fabric was made from soft white cotton and had a small, blue K embroidered on the corner. That morning, Kurt had folded it with pinpoint precision and proudly tucked it into the breast pocket of his Armani jacket. And before leaving for school, he'd taken the time to admire just how sophisticated he'd looked in the mirror. (Not like he didn't every morning, but he'd taken some extra time today.) He'd been so pleased by how the little handkerchief looked.

A few months ago, when Kurt had found out that pocket squares were fashionable again, he'd immediately rushed out and bought a bunch. Some were plain colors, and some were printed with outrageous patterns, but his favorites by far, were the ones with his initial on them. There was just something so wonderful about seeing the loopy little letter sticking out of his pocket.

But no matter which handkerchief he wore, Kurt always felt amazing when he had one tucked into his pocket. Because they spoke of old Hollywood glamour and elegance, and they reminded him of the magic of Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire.

However, as he stared at the swath of fabric, a trail of scarlet mingling with the water that was swirling down the drain, Kurt wanted nothing more than to burn the thing. He was tired of blood and all of the pain and heartache that seemed to come with it.

And as the water rushing through the fabric faded from bright red to clear, Kurt shut off the tap and wrung out the cloth. Turning back towards Puck, Kurt tried to refold the handkerchief, but instead of the precise square it had once been, it merely looked floppy and defeated.

Which, sadly enough, mirrored how Kurt was feeling.

Unamused by the irony, Kurt looked up again. When he did, he was surprised to find Puck staring at him.

Kurt simply looked back but didn't try to speak. Because, to be honest, he just didn't know what to say. But more than that, Kurt was just tired. Up till the moment he saw Puck's blood slipping down the drain, Kurt hadn't realized just how stressed and worn out he was. But now that Kurt _really_ felt it, the exhaustion seemed to swallow him whole.

So rather than try to come up with something brilliant (or at least not stupid) to say, Kurt silently raised the cloth to Puck's mouth again. But when he did, Puck flinched back (or as much as he could anyway).

Kurt felt instantly guilty again and didn't bother trying to keep the remorse off of his face. Not dropping his hand, Kurt looked directly into Puck's brown eyes. "I'm sorry. I'll be more careful this time." When Puck still didn't relax, Kurt sighed softly. "Promise."

At that, Puck relaxed back into the chair, but this time he didn't close his eyes. Instead, he studied Kurt, allowing him to tend to his busted lip.

Under the close scrutiny, Kurt began to feel himself tense up. The moment, fraught with blood as it was, was strangely intimate. Oh, they'd been alone together before and shared simple touches. But as Kurt gently pressed the fabric to Puck's lower lip, he felt himself swallowing involuntarily and his hands begin to shake ever so slightly.

Before Puck could notice the subtle trembling, Kurt pulled the cloth away and turned to rinse it out again. Watching the cool water rush over the blood stained fabric, Kurt took a deep breath and repeated a forgotten mantra in his mind. _"Just breathe."_

Lost in his own thoughts, Kurt was surprised to hear a string of mumbling and cursing coming from behind him. Because up till then, Puck hadn't said a word since they'd walked out of the choir room and headed towards the locker room. He'd remained silent, his jaw clenched tightly shut; whether that was in pain or anger, Kurt wasn't sure. But whatever had stopped him from talking before seemed to be gone.

Shutting off the water and ringing out the handkerchief, Kurt turned back to Puck. He was surprised to find that, unlike before when Puck had looked mildly confused and upset, he now looked positively _livid_. Kurt knew that Puck had finally realized what had happened, and he was letting it _all_ out. And as he continued, Puck's face turned redder and redder, almost as if he was holding his breath in frustration. But more importantly, the more he expounded upon where exactly Finn could go and what he could do when he got there, the more his lip bled.

As the steady torrent of obscenities (all aimed at Finn) continued, Kurt watched Puck's bottom lip grow bloodier. And when the gathering drop of blood threatened to spill over, Kurt could no longer stand it.

"Shhhh…." The sound was gentle, and it caused Puck to lose his stride for just a second. And that was long enough for Kurt to press the cool compress against Puck's mouth once again.

As intended, the move had made it impossible for Puck to speak, so instead, he stared at Kurt with questioning eyes.

"If you keep talking, you'll make it worse." Kurt paused to wipe at Puck's lip before replacing the cloth, fresh side down. "And if that happens, you'll end up needing stitches."

The look in Puck's eyes went from questioning to examining, as if something had just occurred to him. And despite Kurt's warning, he pulled away (just a touch) so he could speak. "You been beat up before, Hummel?"

"No." But in a town like Lima, that was a distinct possibility, and they both knew it. There had been times when Kurt had been afraid, thought for sure that someone's bullying would go too far, but it hadn't. Not yet anyway. "A few years ago my uncle suggested to my father that he should start dating again. My dad… didn't agree. So he punched him." Kurt sighed.

He remembered that moment like it was yesterday, and it _wasn't_ a happy memory. It had been the eight-year anniversary of his mother's death, and after visiting Woodlawn Cemetery, they'd gone back home with Uncle Mike in tow.

Kurt had spent most of the day in his room reading _Harry Potter_, unaware of the beer induced tension that was brewing in the kitchen. When he'd heard the scuffle up above him, he'd dropped his book and run upstairs to find his uncle apologizing with a bloody lip.

"Anyway, Uncle Mike apologized so many times that he tore his lip even more and ended up needing stitches."

Puck didn't press the matter further, but when Kurt moved to place the handkerchief back against his mouth, Puck caught hold of his wrist.

His grip was gentle, but Kurt could tell that if he tried to pull away, the other boy wouldn't let him go that easily. But even though Kurt knew that, he wasn't afraid, and he didn't feel trapped. Because there was a desperation in the way that Puck was holding onto him that let Kurt knew that he was needed.

Around Kurt's wrist, Puck's fingers were clenching and unclenching involuntarily, and his thumb was pressed into the pulse point on the underside of Kurt's wrist. And for some reason, Kurt couldn't help but feel like Puck was asking for… more. It was like he was begging for something that he didn't yet have the words for.

And wishing that he knew what Puck wanted, what he _needed_, Kurt looked down into Puck's eyes. He was hoping to find answers or even just clues in the other boy's deep brown eyes. But instead, all Kurt found was a heartbreaking despair that nearly took his breath away.

Puck's fingers tightened around his wrist again, but this time, a little tighter as he visibly struggled to speak. "Do you… do you think that Finn was right? That… That what happened is my fault?" Puck's voice was barely above a whisper, but Kurt heard him perfectly.

And Puck's words broke his heart.

Without thinking, without considering, Kurt said the first thing that came to mind. "No."

As his response hung in the air, Kurt realized that he really did believe that. There were just _so many_ factors that had led to Quinn's miscarriage. So many variables and possibilities that he found it impossible to believe that Puck's pestering had been the deciding factor in the fate of her child, _their_ child. It just wasn't possible to place the blame on any one thing.

But Puck still didn't seem sure, his hand tightening around Kurt's wrist again as if it were a life preserver. Puck's face was twisted in pain, and he looked as if he was drowning in a sea of anguish and despair.

Kurt wanted to say something, anything, but there were just no words.

So, rather than try to force out a string of meaningless platitudes, Kurt listened to the one thing that had yet to steer him wrong.

His heart.

Listening to what his heart was telling him, Kurt ignored the fact that besides their kiss, they'd barely touched before. And taking a deep calming breath, Kurt reached out and slid his free arm around Puck's shoulder. Under his palm, Kurt could feel the warmth of Puck's skin through his black t-shirt and the muscles that lay beneath. If it had been any other time, Kurt might have enjoyed the moment, but as it was, he wanted nothing more than to soothe Puck's heartache and wounded soul.

With Kurt's arm around his shoulders, Puck squeezed Kurt's wrist one more time before letting go. The second he did, Kurt reached out with his newly free hand. And just as he did, Puck slid both of his arms around Kurt's waist.

It was a blur of movements, both of them reaching out and pulling the other as close as they possibly could. It was rough and full of need, Kurt gripping Puck's shoulder as Puck twisted his hands in the back of Kurt's sweater.

And as Puck buried his face in Kurt's stomach, Kurt closed his eyes and realized something…

He needed this just as much as Puck did.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- To everyone who had read and reviewed (or even just read), you never fail to amaze me with your support and love. Thank you so much.  
- Quack: Thank you for being so incredibly patient with me. It means a lot. :duck:  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	14. All Apologies

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 14: All Apologies**

When Kurt pulled up in front of his house and saw Mercedes' small red car parked in front of it, he was tempted to keep on driving.

Because…

He knew why she was there waiting for him and consequently, what was to come.

And after what had happened in rehearsal with Finn and afterward in the locker room with Puck, Kurt just didn't think he could handle anymore today. All he really wanted to do was go inside, get his homework done, and settle in for a relaxing evening.

But deep down, Kurt knew that his night was going to be anything but.

So, resigning himself to his fate, Kurt pulled the Navigator into the driveway (making sure to leave space for his dad). However, before shutting off the engine, Kurt took a moment to just sit and let his head clear (Or, as much as he possibly could anyway.) As he sat, Kurt didn't try to rally his defenses or come up with any arguments or counter arguments.

Instead, Kurt did his best to let his thoughts clear out completely, imaging that his mind was free of any stress or negativity. He knew that Mercedes was bound to be upset, but Kurt also knew that if he walked up to her with his proverbial guns drawn, things would only be worse.

Unable to avoid the inevitable any longer, Kurt took one last deep breath as he turned his keys and pulled them out of the ignition. And after grabbing his jacket and book bag, he headed towards his front door.

Kurt knew he should have walked over to her car first, but he didn't. Because if he did, they would end up having their discussion in the street. And Kurt _really_ didn't want that to happen. He'd much rather be inside the safety of his own home when Mercedes confronted him.

But as he got closer to the front door, Kurt realized that she _wasn't_ following him. As he thought about that, Kurt noticed that he hadn't heard her car door open or close as he'd walked towards his house. And try as he might, Kurt couldn't make out any footsteps behind him.

Thoroughly confused, he stopped and turned to look back towards her car.

"I'm up here, Kurt." Mercedes voice came from behind him, making him jump just a bit. When he turned back around, Kurt was surprised to find her sitting on the porch swing. Mercedes' hands were folded in her lap, and her shoulders were slumped, almost in defeat.

"Oh, I…" Kurt's voice trailed off as he took a few tentative steps towards his house. He wracked his brain for something else to say, but came up with nothing.

"Where ya' been?" Mercedes' question could very easily have come across as an accusation, but it hadn't. Instead, Mercedes just sounded sad, as if she already knew the answer to the question, and it was one she didn't like.

Walking up the porch steps, Kurt pressed his lips together, quickly debating how much he should tell the girl. "I was with…"

"Puck?" Mercedes noticed his hesitation, finishing Kurt's answer for him. It was at that moment that Kurt realized she hadn't really been asking the question, that she'd already known the answer.

And that irritated him.

"Yes, with _Puck_. And what about you? Did you and everyone else tend to Finn's _wounds_?" Kurt's voice was filled with sarcasm, and he could feel the anger twisting his face into an ugly sneer. Now he was standing in front of the girl, looking down at her on the swing.

Mercedes quickly registered his tone and dropped her eyes to her lap. When she looked up again, Mercedes' eyes were full of sadness. "Look, I don't want to fight. You're my best friend. But…"

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but Mercedes held up a hand to stop him.

"Something is going on with you." Mercedes sighed as if she was dreading what she was about to say next. "You've been acting strange for a while now. And I want to be there for you, but you need to let me in." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but Kurt felt as if she was screaming at him. "_Please_, Kurt."

"Why did you side with Finn today?" The question was out of Kurt's mouth before he even realized it was in his head. But as it hung in the air between them, Kurt felt his heartbeat speed up in anticipation of her answer. It was almost as if everything rode on what she would say next.

And much to Kurt's amazement, Mercedes just slumped further into the porch swing. He'd expected her to protest, to refuse to answer his question before he answered hers. But instead, Kurt was met with something akin to defeat, or quite possibly, shame.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I know…" Mercedes looked up into the air like the answer was there, waiting to be plucked like a star from the heavens. "I was stupid, and I shouldn't have done that."

"But you did." It came out sounding much more accusatory than Kurt had meant for it to be. And he winced a little as Mercedes stared at him.

"I said it was stupid and that I was sorry." Mercedes sat up a little in the seat, as if she'd regained some of her confidence. "I'm just so used to Finn being the good guy, you know?"

At that, Kurt wanted nothing more than to say, "Even when he's got someone else's blood on his hands?" But deep down, Kurt knew that if he did, that would be it. Mercedes' patience for him would run out, and she'd get up and storm away. Then he'd be minus not only a friend, but his _best_ friend. And that just wasn't an option. So he kept his mouth shut, waiting for Mercedes to say something.

When he didn't speak, Mercedes seemed to take that as her cue to keep talking. "Look, Finn is really sorry. Right after you and Puck left, he freaked out and started apologizing to everyone. He wanted to go after you -"

"Me?" Kurt interrupted Mercedes, thoroughly confused as to why Finn would want to come after _him_ when he'd left with Puck. "What about -"

"Yes, _you_." It was Mercedes' turn to interrupt, and her tone very clearly said that Finn hadn't wanted to see Puck. And more importantly, it said that Finn had no intention of making amends for what he'd done. "He wanted to apol-"

"_I'm_ not the one Finn needs to apologize to." Kurt could feel an angry blush creeping up the base of his neck, and he was doing everything he could to force it back down. But the idea of Finn chasing Kurt down to apologize for what he'd done to Puck while Kurt was _with_ Puck…

And yet not apologize to Puck himself…

It angered Kurt so much that it made him feel sick to his stomach.

Mercedes, thankfully, seemed to not only sense his anger but also know that it wasn't pointed at her. Because when she responded with a somber, "I know," it also said, "And I totally understand why you're upset."

And because of that simple, intuitive understanding, Kurt could do nothing more than stare at his best friend as the back of his throat tightened up in irritation at Finn.

Unable to speak, Kurt moved over to the porch swing and sat down next to Mercedes, making sure to keep his new Prada bag off of the slatted seat. It was a cool November day, and there was a whisper of winter in the air. But it was nice enough for them to sit out on the swing without freezing. And for a few minutes, that was just what they did. Together they enjoyed the silence, allowing it to say all of the things they could not. Or would not.

But eventually, the spell either wore off or the silence simply became too much for Mercedes. (Kurt was positive that it was the latter, because in the time he'd known the girl, he'd never seen her go more than five minutes without talking. Unless they were in rehearsal or something like that, that was.)

"So…" Mercedes sounded tentative, which only served to twist Kurt's stomach into knots, because Mercedes only hesitated when she had something truly important to say. "What's going on with you and Puck? You didn't even seem to care if Finn was ok today. And that's just not like you. Normally you're falling all over him."

Kurt didn't bite on her last statement, because, as much as he hated to admit it, she was totally right. But that wasn't the only reason he didn't come back with a snappy retort. No, he had a question that was much more important than throwing a little shade her way. "Can… Can I ask you something?" It was Kurt's turn to stare down at his lap, but rather than examine his hands, Kurt picked at a non-existent thread on his bag.

"Umh, ok." Even though Kurt couldn't see her face, he could tell that Mercedes was confused, because it was more than evident in her tone. "But you're not getting out of answering _my_ question."

Kurt just nodded. He could have said, "I know," or "Do you honestly things I'm naive enough to think that _you_ would be so easily dissuaded?" But he didn't. Under normal circumstances, he could snark on command, but at that moment, Kurt just didn't have it in him. Because their friendship was on the line, and he didn't want to screw this up.

"If you think Puck is such a bad guy, why do you keep throwing me at him?" Kurt's voice was so soft that he was afraid Mercedes might not have heard him. But from the way she shifted on swing, Kurt knew she had.

When she spoke, Mercedes sounded shocked but not completely. "I don't think Puck is -"

"Yes, you do." Kurt interrupted his best friend, because he _really_ didn't want her to try and cover up how she felt about Puck.

Honestly, Kurt knew that Puck was _far_ from being Mr. Perfect. After all, not only had he made an art form out of torturing Kurt, but he'd gotten his (now ex) best friend's girlfriend pregnant. And that did not a model boyfriend make.

But all of that aside, Kurt knew, had seen first hand, that there was _so_ much more to Puck.

Before Quinn's miscarriage, Kurt had caught small glimpses of Puck staring at the blonde or following her through the halls. Kurt had also heard rumors about how Puck had tried to be there for her and how he'd offered to take care of _their_ baby. But more than that, he'd seen the pain in Puck's face, felt the absolute desperation of what Puck was going through, when Puck had clung to him in the locker room.

And because that (and more), Kurt knew, without a doubt, that no matter the face Noah Puckerman presented to the world, he _wasn't_ a bad guy.

But Kurt wasn't about to try and have _that_ discussion with Mercedes. Not now anyway.

"But that's not the point." Kurt sighed as he tried to summon up the courage to ask his question again. "Why have you -"

This time, Mercedes interrupted him. "There's something going on between you two. I can tell." She paused but just long enough to take a deep breath. "And… I wanted you to get over Finn. So…"

"You pushed." Kurt swallowed, as if her answer was a bitter pill that didn't want to go down.

"Yeah, and I'm sorry. I know I'm repeating myself, but you're my _best friend_." Mercedes emphasized the last two words, and the extra weight of them caused Kurt a pang of guilt at not having confided in her. "And I don't want to see you get hurt because this thing you've got for Finn…"

Kurt didn't need Mercedes to finish her sentence; he already knew. But he didn't have the heart to tell her that she was too late, that the pain had already begun.

Next to him, Mercedes had fallen quiet again, but instead of the ease of their silence before, Kurt could tell that she had something else to say. And the tension the unspoken words were creating was beginning to make Kurt's skin crawl.

He thought about saying something, anything to try and break the uncomfortable silence, but Mercedes beat him to the punch.

"I've missed you, Kurt." Mercedes sounded so upset that Kurt couldn't help but look over at her. And when he did, he was surprised to see that her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. "I feel like I've lost you."

"I'm _so_ sorry." Kurt didn't bother to try and keep the raw emotion out of his voice, because he knew that Mercedes needed to hear it and that in some ways, he did too. It wasn't until that moment that Kurt realized just how strained their friendship had become.

After he finished speaking, Mercedes wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. Amazingly enough, she was giving him a watery smile and looking as if she felt all was forgiven.

But Kurt knew better.

He knew that even though they'd both apologized, there were things that had been left unsaid. Mostly on his part, of that he was sure, but all of that aside, Kurt was happy to have his best friend back in his corner. And he could only hope that the rest would work itself out in time.

"Well…" Even though Mercedes cheeks were shining with tears, her face was lit up like a homing beacon for gossip. "What's going on with you and Puck?"

Kurt just laughed; the sound was half humor and half unrelieved stress. And when the remnants of it died away, Kurt gave Mercedes a completely honest answer. "I just don't know."

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

The dryer buzzed loudly, letting Kurt know that his laundry was finally done. Surprisingly enough, most of Kurt's wardrobe was washing machine safe. Of course, there were a few extra special pieces like his Alexander McQueen sweater or his Michael Kors jacket that had to be dry cleaned. But for the most part, he was able to take care of everything himself.

Pulling open the dryer door, Kurt reached in and pulled out a warm pile of darks and threw them into the plastic laundry basket at his feet. Closing the door behind him, Kurt carried the load over of clothing over to his bed and sat down in the middle of it, folding his legs underneath himself. Once he was settled in, Kurt tipped the cream-colored basket over, letting clothes fall into a pile before him. Sighing to himself, he picked up a pair of Calvin Klein underwear and began to fold.

When he'd first moved into the basement three years ago, Burt had offered to move the washer and dryer into Kurt's old room upstairs. And at first, Kurt had said yes, because the machines were so noisy and distracting. But due to the house's electrical wiring, Burt had had to call in a professional to move them properly. (Lest the house burn down.)

But in the days leading up to the electrician's appointment, Kurt had grown used to the sounds that the washer and dryer made. They'd become a soothing comfort to him, and Kurt had ended up asking his dad to cancel the electrician's appointment. His father, though confused, had said ok, not bothering to ask why.

And in the years since moving into the basement, Kurt had come to not only like the sound of the appliances, but to actually enjoy doing his laundry as well. The repetitive motions of smoothing and folding the different articles brought him a sense of peace and calm that he found nowhere else.

So, like so many times before, Kurt sat on his bed, a pile of warm, fluffy, and freshly laundered clothing in front of him, feeling content. But just as he pulled out a shirt to hang up, his cell phone chirped annoyingly. Sighing, Kurt reached over and plucked his phone from its place on the bedside table, answering it before checking the number. "Hello?"

"Kurt? Hey." Finn's voice came through the small earpiece sounding confused and unsure. Any other time, that would have made Kurt smile. But tonight, after what had happened with Puck and Mercedes, it just irritated him.

"Finn." Kurt's voice was cold, and without realizing what he was doing, Kurt began balling up the shirt he'd picked up moments before, clenching it tightly in his fist.

"I'm sorry. I'm _really_ sorry." Finn's words came out sounding like a rushed and jumbled mess, but Kurt had gotten the gist of it. And he believed Finn, because the sincerity in his tone was so palpable and because Finn just wasn't that good a liar. But still, Kurt didn't care.

"_I'm_ not the one you need to apologize to." Simple and to the point, it was the same thing he'd said to Mercedes only a few hours earlier.

The other end of the phone line went silent, but Kurt knew Finn was still there, because he could hear his breathing on the other end of the line. Kurt waited, not willing to make things any easier for Finn. And when the other boy finally spoke, Kurt was unsurprised to find a layer of poorly disguised anger in his tone.

"I just wanted to make sure that we were still on for tomorrow." Finn's words were stilted, as if it was painful for him to say them.

"Yes. After school in the auditorium." Kurt didn't bother trying to sound optimistic or excited, because truth be told, he just wasn't.

Not anymore anyway.

In fact, the only reason he hadn't canceled on Finn was because he'd said he'd help. And Kurt didn't feeling right about backing out after agreeing. "I'll meet you there."

After saying goodbye, Kurt placed his phone back on the bedside table. It was only then that he realized he was crushing the shirt in his hands. Thoroughly irritated at himself for not noticing it sooner, Kurt prepared himself for a mess of wrinkles as he shook out the garment.

But when he saw what it was, Kurt gasped. Because in his hands was Puck's ratty old Def Leppard t-shirt. And as he stared at it, Kurt was hit with a wave of nauseating certainty that ran bone deep…

Puck _had_ seen Kurt sleeping in _his_ shirt.

There was no way he couldn't have. After all, Puck had tucked him in, made sure that he was covered before leaving. And if he was uncovered… that meant that whatever he'd been wearing was visible.

As much as he wished it weren't true, Kurt knew it was. Puck wouldn't have left it otherwise.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- To my faithful readers and reviewers, thank you again. Thank you so very much. You have made this whole experience so wonderful for me. :duck:  
- Quack: Thanks so much for everything. I couldn't do this without your help and support.  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	15. The F Word

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 15: The "F" Word**

Kurt stood before the piano in the choir room, his fingers poised over the keys. But rather than allow his hands to glide over the black and white steps, Kurt pressed down on only one key. As he did, a clear C rang out through the room. With the last of the sound still resonating from the piano, Kurt took a deep breath before matching the tone with his own voice. When the room was silent once again, he moved onto the next note.

Class had let out about ten minutes ago, but rather than go straight to the auditorium to meet Finn, Kurt had all but run to the choir room. He'd told himself that it was because he wanted a few minutes alone to warm up and that Finn would probably be late anyway.

But deep down… Kurt knew that that wasn't why he'd escaped to the glee club's rehearsal room.

No, the _real_ reason he'd gone there was so that he could clear his mind a bit before meeting with Finn. Because Kurt had had, to say the least, a _very_ rough day.

Quinn, despite her breakdown the day before, had shown up right after first period. And her presence had set off a gossip storm that had followed Kurt wherever he'd gone.

Kurt knew that that wasn't Quinn's fault, but the constant sea of tension had everyone in the glee club on edge. Brittany had been even loopier than usual, flat out telling Mr. Schuester that her homework wasn't done because she hadn't had a chance to copy it from Santana yet. And Artie, well-mannered, even-tempered Artie, had snapped at Tina when she'd asked for a napkin at lunch. But as high-strung as everyone had been, Finn and Puck had been, by far, the worst.

Finn had spent his day ignoring Kurt, which, surprisingly enough, really didn't bother him all that much. But even though he didn't care, Kurt hadn't been able to completely stop himself from feeling slightly put out about it. After all, he was doing Finn a favor. The _least_ Finn could do would have been to acknowledge his presence.

But no, nothing.

Not even the "Hey, Hummel," that he'd once adored.

And where Finn had ignored Kurt all day…

Puck had gone out of his way to avoid him.

Whenever Kurt had seen Puck in the halls, he'd tried to get the other boy's attention. But Puck had managed to stay away from him, ducking into random classrooms and averting his eyes whenever Kurt had been near. And as much as it irritated Kurt, it also hurt his feelings. He'd thought that they were…. Well, Kurt didn't really know _what_ he thought they were. But he had thought they were beyond childish stunts like ignoring and avoiding one another.

So after having spent most of his lunch period trying to figure out just what exactly Puck's problem was, Kurt had come to a conclusion. And that was that Puck's behavior _must_ have been because of the… not hug. Because it hadn't been really a hug per se. But labeling it as such had been so much easier than admitting what it really had been.

And when it came down to it, Kurt hadn't hugged Puck. He'd _held_ him.

More than that though, they'd held each other.

Looking back, Kurt had realized that it had been _too_ much _too_ soon. After all, besides the kiss they'd shared, they'd barely touched before. Sure, there had been a few times but never anything so intimate as physically reaching out and pulling Puck towards his body (and vice versa).

At the time, it had felt _right_, natural. And Puck had wanted, no, _needed_ the contact as well, if not more so even.

But as Kurt had continued to think about it, he was pretty sure that he'd stepped over the invisible line that was between them. He'd broached the tentative connection they'd built up before it was ready to support any weight, and Kurt had fallen through. And the landing that was his realization had been painful.

So painful that he'd spent the rest of the day trying to hide himself from view. Not just from Puck but also from anyone he knew. He'd felt dirty, and Kurt had refused to be seen looking anything less that pristine.

The moment the last bell of the day had rung, Kurt had taken off for the choir room, praying that no one he knew saw him or tried to stop him. And thankfully, no one had.

Kurt moved his fingers from the D to the E, pressing down harder than was really necessary. The note trembled through the room, sounding as if it were angry at the world. Right away, he knew that he wouldn't be able to match his voice to it; it just wasn't right. So Kurt let it die away. Listening to the tone dissipate, Kurt closed his eyes, feeling irritated and stressed but more importantly, drained.

More than anything, Kurt needed a break from everyone and everything. He needed time to clear his muddled brain in order to gain some perspective on the situation at hand. But sadly, Kurt knew all too well that such a break from reality wasn't going to happen. So he would just have to make do with stolen moments where he could just breathe and be alone…

"Hey." Puck's voice was low and rough, almost worried. And though Kurt's eyes were still closed, he knew that the other boy was close.

He didn't answer, just kept his eyes pressed tightly shut. And for just a moment he laughed inside. It would figure that the moment he wanted to be alone the most, Puck would _finally_ show up.

"To what do I owe the honor?" Kurt's voice was light, but it was laced with sarcasm. And Kurt kicked himself mentally, because he didn't need to look at Puck to know that he'd said too much, given too much away. Sighing heavily, Kurt opened his eyes. But instead of looking over at Puck, he studied the black and white piano keys.

"Look, man, I'm sorry." And oddly enough, Puck really did sound apologetic. Which was just enough for Kurt to completely ignore Puck's horrendous use of the word "man." But it wasn't enough to make him look up from the piano keys. "I just thought that…" Puck's voice trailed off, and Kurt fought against himself to keep his head down. "That after yesterday you wouldn't want people to see us… together." Puck finished lamely, as if it hurt him to admit that.

"_What_?" Kurt's head snapped up, his gaze landing directly on the top of Puck's mohawk-ed head. Puck was looking down, his head hanging in shame.

Much to Kurt's surprise, the other boy was leaning on the piano only a few inches away from him. How Puck of all people had managed to sneak into the room and get that close undetected, Kurt would never know. But after what Puck had just said, that was beside the point, because Kurt was totally shocked by Puck's reasoning. It was so _far_ off from what he'd expected that Kurt could hardly believe it. "Why would I? We're…"

At that, Puck lifted his head and stared into Kurt's eyes. It was clear that he was waiting for Kurt to finish his thought, to put a name to what they were. And from the questioning look in Puck's gaze, Kurt almost felt as if Puck was begging him to define just _what_ was going on between them.

But Kurt didn't have an answer.

In fact, he didn't have the slightest clue.

Sure, Kurt could have said that they were friends, but were they? After all, they didn't sit together in the cafeteria at lunch or help one another study. And they didn't go to the movies together or talk fashion like he and Mercedes did.

But if they weren't friends, and it certainly _didn't_ feel like they were, what did that leave? Enemies? They'd been there and done that, and whatever they were now, it most definitely wasn't enemies.

With friends and enemies out of the picture, what then did that leave?

They certainly weren't apathetic towards one another. They were also more than mere acquaintances. However… they weren't dating or going steady. And really, Kurt could barely bring himself to admit that he…

He didn't even know.

But what Kurt _did_ know was that he'd come to care for Puck. How much, he wasn't sure. And honestly, he didn't think he really wanted to know. As it was, Puck had turned his world upside down, and Kurt was still trying to adjust to the changes that Puck had brought about in his life thus far. And he just didn't know if he could handle any more.

So rather than try to find an answer to Puck's question, one that would _truly_ sum up what they were, Kurt changed the subject.

"How does your lip feel?" When Puck's face fell in disappointment, Kurt felt his stomach clench painfully. He knew Puck had wanted some sort of insight into what was going on between them, but Kurt just didn't have any to give.

"Fine." The disappointment Kurt had seen on Puck's face was even more evident in his voice.

"It looks like it's healing well." And it did. Puck's bottom lip was a touch puffy with a purple tinge and had a tiny scab running down it. But other than that, it looked fine.

Puck didn't respond. Instead, he stared at Kurt with searching eyes that seemed to reach into the depths of Kurt's soul. And it was so intense that Kurt couldn't handle it.

Deep down, Kurt knew that Puck was searching him for some sign or answer about what was going on between them. And it was just too much, too probing, so rather than allow Puck to keep searching, Kurt dropped his eyes back to the piano keys.

Unable to think of anything to say, Kurt slid his fingertips over the notes, taking care not to press any of them down. And as he continued to stare at the keys, Kurt felt himself growing steadily tenser as the silence grew increasingly uncomfortable. It was as if the room around them was crackling with energy that was just waiting to be released so that it could flare out and zap someone.

In the space of a few seconds, the room had grown so dense and uncomfortable that Kurt realized there was no possible way that they were both going to walk away unscathed.

It just wasn't possible.

Too much had been said and unsaid, and Kurt could feel the anxiety of that bubbling under his skin.

"Umh…" The word came out before Kurt could stop it. And as it hung in the haze between them, he wished that he could take it back. Because it meant nothing, said nothing, and had only come out, because Kurt could no longer stand the silence.

But thankfully, that one small sound seemed to have had some effect on Puck, because Kurt could hear him moving around next to him. Kurt wanted to look up, to see what the other boy was doing, but he was afraid to move.

"So, uh…" Puck still sounded upset, but Kurt was beyond grateful that the other boy was talking. And as his voice trailed off, Kurt tried to sneak a peak at him through the cover of his eyelashes. From what Kurt could see, Puck was still leaning on the piano, but now he was running his right hand over his mohawk as if it would help soothe his nerves. "What are you doin' in here?" Puck dropped his hand and his arm back on the piano.

"I, umh…" Kurt didn't want to say why he was in the choir room, but he knew he had to. "I'm warming up." He tried to keep his voice light, hoping that Puck wouldn't read anything into it. But Kurt wasn't sure if he'd been successful.

"What for?" Puck sounded confused, and Kurt could no longer stop himself from looking up. Because of all the possible reactions he'd expected from Puck, confusion wasn't among them. "It's Tuesday. Glee isn't until Thursday." Puck was now looking at him as if he'd forgotten something.

Kurt just stared at Puck, his mouth opening and closing as he realized that Puck had forgotten about Finn's asking for help with his Free For All solo. "I'm helping Finn with Mr. Schuester's assignment today." Kurt tried to sound nonchalant, like it didn't matter that he was meeting with Finn.

But he was positive that he'd failed.

Puck's eyes narrowed instantly, but mixed in with the irritation, Kurt saw hurt. But when Puck spoke, he managed to hide that, burying it deep beneath the anger. "You're still going to help _him_. Even after yesterday."

It wasn't a question.

Just a statement of the obvious.

And it left Kurt wondering just what _Puck_ thought was going on between them. Because, at that moment, Kurt realized that Puck felt… betrayed. It was almost as if Puck had expected him to stay away from Finn _for_ him.

The next second, before Kurt knew what he was doing, he was speaking, asking Puck the question that had been bothering him for weeks. "Why did you kiss me?" His voice was soft, but he was positive that Puck had heard him. "I mean, did you… did you think I was Quinn or… or something?" When Kurt said the girl's name, his hands started shaking slightly. It had been so long since he'd thought about the kiss that Kurt could hardly believe how worried he was to hear the answer.

"Yeah, I did." Puck's eyes were wide, as if he hadn't expected to be asked that particular question. "But after I realized it was you…" He moved forward, closing the small distance between them. "It was so dark, and we were all pumped up from the performance that I just thought… why not?"

Puck was barely an inch away from Kurt, but as Puck's words sank in, Kurt felt as if he was a million miles away from him. And in that far away place, his fingers and toes went numb, and he was struggling to breathe. With each breath he attempted to take, the tighter his lungs became, denying him the oxygen he so desperately needed.

"I was a 'why not.'" Kurt spoke in a soft whisper of disbelief to himself. "My _first_ kiss was a 'why not.'"

Even though Puck was right in front of him, Kurt was focused on the past, his clear blue eyes seeing their kiss in a whole new and completely hideous light. And as all of the sensations, once so moving and profound, flooded through his veins, Kurt felt the acrid burn of bile rising in the back of his throat. It was as if he'd been smacked, the rug pulled out from under him, and every other cliché possibly imaginable.

As Kurt's mind quickly fast-forwarded through _everything_ that had happened over the past few weeks, his chest began to heave painfully, the effort of trying to breathe burning his overtaxed lungs. And just as his brain finished its trip down memory lane, Kurt came to the heartbreaking realization of just how hard he'd really fallen for Puck.

Because there was _no way_ that Puck's explanation would have hurt _this_ much otherwise.

It just wasn't possible.

Kurt wanted to move, to run, to try and save a shred of his dignity, but he could barely breathe let alone walk. He couldn't even bring himself to object when he felt Puck's fingertips brush over his cheek before pushing his bangs back. The touch left a traitorous path of gentle tingles behind it, and as the feeling lingered, Kurt couldn't help but think, "Why is this happening? Why me? Just… _why_?"

With the question still echoing painfully through his mind, Kurt barely noticed as Puck slid his fingertips over his cheek once again. It wasn't until Puck whispered in Kurt's ear that he regained any sort of conscious function.

"Just at first." Puck's voice was so soft, no more than a whisper against Kurt's cheek. And Kurt found himself shocked by the raw sincerity of the words. Unfortunately though, the damage was already done. "Because I never expec-"

"No." Kurt's voice was low, but there was no mistaking his anger and resolve. And as he said it, Kurt slapped Puck's hand away from his cheek. The smack left the back of Kurt's hand stinging, but the pain he felt was nothing compared to the anguish in Puck's eyes.

Puck looked upset and desperate, but there was also a touch of resignation in his dark brown gaze. Not blinking, he lifted his hands as if in surrender, his eyes begging Kurt to listen. "Please, just let me -"

Before Puck could get any further, Kurt held up one hand of his own. "Stop." His voice was shaking, and no matter how hard he tried, Kurt couldn't control it. "I don't want to hear it. Or anything for that matter."

And he didn't.

He really, _really_ didn't.

Puck, amazingly enough, just dropped his hands in defeat, not saying another word. Instead, he stared at Kurt, his dark eyes full of apology.

"Now, if you'll excuse me…" Kurt bent over and grabbed his coat and bag off of the piano bench with so much force that it teetered precariously for a few seconds. "I'm late for my meeting with _Finn_." Kurt placed as much emphasis on Finn's name as he possibly could, hoping that it would cut Puck to the quick.

And from the angry look on the other boy's face, it had done just that. But even though his words had had their intended affect, Kurt felt guilty as Puck stood there staring at him, his jaw clenched together in anger.

Before Puck could say anything else, Kurt turned on his heel and stormed towards the choir room door with his head held high. However, before he could walk through it, Puck called out to him one last time.

"He'll never love you."

The anger that had been in Puck's eyes flowed through his words, leaving Kurt feeling as if he'd been punched in the stomach. If Puck had meant to hurt him, he'd done just that.

Spinning around, Kurt took one look at Puck leaning against the piano before sneering, "Neither will you."

And with that, Kurt left the room, not looking back once. Just as he was about halfway down the hall, Kurt head a loud clanking of piano keys come from the choir room.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- To everyone who has been following this story, THANK YOU. Your support means more than I can say. :duck:  
- Quack: As always, thank you.  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	16. I've Come Undone

**Put Me Back Together  
Chapter 16: I've Come Undone**

When Kurt walked into the auditorium, his mind was still reeling, frantically playing and re-playing what had just happened with Puck. It still seemed so surreal, but the more logical part of Kurt's brain was starting to work again. And it was telling him that he _really_ shouldn't be so surprised. After all, Puck was a jerk and he'd tortured Kurt for _years_.

But Kurt thought that they'd gotten past that and that he'd gotten to see behind the veil to see who Puck _really_ was. Because in just over two weeks, Puck had become a completely different person right in front of Kurt's eyes. It was like the petals of a flower being peeled away one at a time to revel something even lovelier underneath.

However, in just one moment, Puck had managed to grow back all of the layers that he'd managed to shed.

And Kurt had ended up getting hurt in the process.

As that thought crossed his mind, a sharp pain shot through Kurt's stomach, threatening to take his breath away. It was then that Kurt realized that if he wanted to make it through rehearsal with Finn, he _had_ to quit thinking about Puck.

There was no other way.

So Kurt took a deep breath in an effort to clear his head. It didn't really help, but Kurt tried to tell himself that it did anyway. Because if he were to be totally honest about how he was feeling, Kurt would have turned around and run out of the auditorium then and there. Because he wasn't in the mood to help anyone with anything. All he really wanted to do was go home and hide.

But Kurt wasn't about to let Puck have that effect on him. So with a renewed sense of himself, Kurt shook his head back and headed towards the stage.

Finn was already there, standing next to the piano going through his scales. But instead of the traditional do, re, me's, he was singing "you's" as he went over the notes. And for just a second Kurt stopped walking, wondering just _what_ Finn thought he was doing.

Normally, Kurt would have found something like that endearing. Stupid, but endearing.

But not today.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt walked up the steps to the stage, his boots echoing off each stair. Finn must have heard him, because he stopped singing and turned around to look at him.

"Hey, Kurt." Finn shoved his hands into his pockets, looking unsure of himself as he took a couple of steps forward. "I was beginning to think you'd stood me up." He toed the stage with his sneaker as if he was embarrassed to admit such a thing.

"No, sorry. I was…" Kurt's voice trailed off as he thought, 'having my heart broken.' "Warming up in the choir room."

"Right. Cool." Finn smiled as he nodded his head, obviously appeased by the explanation (even though they obviously could have warmed up together). But the next second, his smile disappeared. Any other day the quick change in emotion would have been comical. Today, however, it was disconcerting for Kurt. "Hey, I _really_ am sorry about -"

"Finn, please don't." Kurt cut Finn off, his voice harsher than he'd intended it to be. But really, he just couldn't handle another apology right then.

"Uh, ok." Finn looked hurt and slightly offended. And that rubbed Kurt the wrong way. After all, where exactly did Finn get off being offended about _anything_ in regards to Kurt and this entire situation?

_Finn_ was the one causing the problems.

_Finn_ was the one who had punched Puck.

_Finn_ was the one who seemed so intent on making sure that everyone turned their backs on Puck.

But despite all of that, Finn still had the gall to be offended at Kurt not wanting to hear another apology. And that amazed Kurt.

Maybe it was just his mood. Maybe it was because he was angry with Puck. Maybe it was because he was fed up with Finn here lately. Whatever it was, Kurt was irritated.

However, he was bound and determined to make it though this rehearsal. So he forced himself to smile back, forced himself to swallow the desire to snap at Finn. And if it took every last ounce of self-control he possessed to not let on that something was wrong, then so be it. He _would_ make it through the next forty-five minutes.

He couldn't fall apart or lose it in front of anyone but _especially_ not Finn.

So Kurt took a deep breath as his forced smile began to make his cheeks ache. "Tell me, what song did you select?"

Finn walked up next to Kurt as he was setting his bag down next to the piano. And Kurt couldn't help notice that there was a slight bounce to the other boy's step. Finn obviously hadn't noticed Kurt's irritation or strain. He was, as always, completely clueless.

Kurt only just managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

"So… I've been practicing. And I think I've got a good handle on my solo." Finn stood next to the piano, tapping on the top like a drummer practicing a favorite rhythm. "And since you said I was good with the classic rock when we did the ballads, I decided to stick with something like that." His hands stopped moving, leaving them both in silence.

When Finn didn't continue, Kurt realized that he was waiting for Kurt to say something. It was almost as it the other boy was looking for reassurance. And even though Kurt _really_ didn't have it in him to make sure that Finn's feelings were ok, Kurt shrugged a little in encouragement. "Sounds good. What is it?"

Kurt's lip service seemed to have done its job, because Finn smiled a little bit. "Under Pressure. By Queen." The last of the excitement that had filled Finn's steps and restless hands melted away, leaving him looking somber. "Cause, well, you know…"

"Yes, I do." Kurt didn't try to smile or act reassuring.

After what Finn had done, not only the day before, but also the way he'd acted over the past couple of weeks, Kurt didn't feel like sympathizing or commiserating with him. Because when it came down to it, Finn had brought on a lot of the stress and pressure himself.

Not _all_ of course. After all, things had been… ok after Sectionals. Not great, of course. But things in the glee club had been slowly but surely working themselves out. And Kurt was pretty sure that, in time, life would have returned to normal. Sure, Puck and Finn probably wouldn't have patched things up. And Finn wouldn't have welcomed Quinn back with open arms. But things had been bound to get better eventually.

But since Quinn's miscarriage, Finn had… changed.

He was surly and territorial, almost as if he wanted to keep everyone and everything to himself. Or more aptly… away from Puck.

And Kurt could understand Finn being upset, he really could. But it seemed like the closer he and Puck grew, the harder Finn tried to pull them apart.

The harder Finn tried to make Puck miserable.

And just as that thought crossed his mind, Kurt realized something. Something that, in retrospect, he knew he should have figured out before. Because really, now that Kurt looked back over the past few weeks, it was horribly, _painfully_ obvious.

Finn was using him.

Against Puck.

That was the _only_ reason Finn had been paying so much attention to Kurt as of late.

And when Kurt looked into Finn's soft brown eyes, it was as if he'd woken from some dream. And he was seeing, _really_ seeing the other boy for the first time. The rose-colored glasses he'd been wearing for so long were shattered, and there Finn was…

An angry, upset teenage boy that had used Kurt simply because he was mad at the world.

But even though it broke his heart to know that Finn had played him, Kurt found that he couldn't summon up any real anger or sadness. Because at that moment, his eyes had locked with Finn's and Kurt had come to an even more important realization.

He didn't love Finn anymore.

Hadn't for a while actually.

And _that_ hurt so much that it took Kurt's breath away.

It wasn't that he cared about losing his crush on Finn, because to be honest, he didn't really feel anything as he looked at him. Instead, Kurt felt as if he was grieving the loss of a piece of himself.

Finn was his first love, and the loss of that left a gaping hole in Kurt's heart. It left him feeling empty and little more broken than he had been when he'd walked into the auditorium.

"So, uh…" Finn was still staring at Kurt, and it was obvious that he could tell something was wrong. His eyebrows were pulled together, and he was searching Kurt's face for an answer. But thankfully, he didn't press the matter. "Should we get started?"

"I…" Kurt pursed his lips together as a fresh wave of pain and heartache flooded through his body. "I don't think that this is such a good idea after all." His voice was strained, but Kurt was resolute. "I think you should find someone else to work with."

"But dude, it's already Tuesday." It was clear from Finn's voice that he was exasperated and just a little shocked. And Kurt wondered if Finn had thought that he would never realize that he was being used. Like maybe he could have gone on using Kurt as a tool against Puck for as long as he wanted.

"Yes and glee isn't until Thursday. You've got time." Kurt bent over to pick up his bag, but his eyes never left Finn's face. "And my name is not _dude_." He emphasized the last word with as much disgust as he possibly could. "How many times do I need to say that?"

"Kurt." He pronounced the word in such a way that Kurt wondered if Finn thought saying his name instead of 'dude' would make anything right. As Finn waited for a response, he gripped the top of the piano, his knuckles white, and Kurt could tell that the other boy was desperately trying to control his anger. He began clenching and unclenching his fingers, and Kurt could see the lines of Finn's jaw tightening.

The sight of Finn growing steadily angrier caused something inside of Kurt to break. However, it wasn't his heart, because at that point, Kurt was _well_ beyond heartbreak. Instead, it was something much deeper, something that didn't really have a name. But if Kurt was _forced_ to put a name to it, he would have said it was his spirit.

Because really, what else was there besides your heart and soul?

Kurt could feel his throat tightening painfully and his eyes prickle with the ache of unshed tears. But there was _no way_ that he'd allow Finn to see him crying. The thought of that was just too much.

In an effort to try and save his pride, Kurt took a deep breath, willing his voice to stay steady. "Call Rachel. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to help." His voice cracked ever so slightly on the last word, but he wasn't finished. And taking one more steadying breath, Kurt prayed that he could finish before he lost the ability to speak altogether. "But do me a favor. Make sure you apologize for blowing her off first."

Finn didn't say a word. Didn't even blink. Instead, he just stared at Kurt with total disbelief in his eyes.

Kurt slung his bag over his shoulder, giving Finn a couple of seconds to try and redeem himself. But when he didn't say anything, Kurt turned around and walked out of the auditorium, his head held defiantly high.

However, as Kurt began walking down the steps that led up to the stage, his tears began to fall.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOO**

The second Kurt pulled into his driveway and turned off the Navigator, he finally allowed himself to give in, _really_ give in. Because up until then, Kurt's tears had been quiet and restrained.

After leaving the auditorium, he'd walked down the hall to his locker to grab his things. After that, he'd made it out of the school without being noticed by anyone who had still been lingering around. And as he drove home, Kurt had fought to keep himself calm so that he could drive safely. He'd wiped away his tears, making sure to focus on the road and oncoming traffic.

But the moment Kurt was safe in his own driveway, he felt the tears flow faster and more freely, the emotion quickly taking over and wracking his body with gut-wrenching sobs.

Kurt didn't even try to hold back the tears, allowing all of the pain and heartache to seep out of himself. Unable to sit up straight any longer, Kurt reached forward and grabbed onto the first thing his hands touched, the steering wheel. And gripping it tightly, Kurt leaned forward and pressed his forehead into his knuckles.

Trapped inside the confines of the car, Kurt's sobs seemed to fill up the space around him, making it hard for him to breathe. And as the stagnant air became unbearable, Kurt pushed open the car door and stumbled out, leaving his bag and cell phone behind.

After several failed attempts at getting the front door open, Kurt went inside and headed straight to the kitchen. Not able to think properly, he paced back and forth in front of the refrigerator, rubbing his arms as if he could soothe away his own pain.

On his eighth pass in front of the appliance, Kurt remembered April Rhodes and her time with the glee club. Oh, her stay had been short and for lack of a better word, _eventful_, but she'd left a lasting impression nonetheless. Not only on them as singers, but on Kurt himself as well.

She'd given him vintage muscle magazines and a daily dose of liquid courage.

Looking back, Kurt couldn't remember what April had given him to drink. All he knew was that one shot had been enough to burn the back of his throat painfully. Kurt couldn't even really remember what the alcohol had tasted like other than that it was _terrible_.

But as bad as it had tasted…

It had left Kurt feeling confident and strong for a little bit before making him feel numbed from the inside out. Of course, the numbness had eventually given way to nausea and an unfortunate incident with Miss Pillsbury's shoes. And there'd been a hangover to deal with the next day. But for just a while, he'd been blissfully numb to everything.

And as all of the hurt, pain and anger coursed through his body, Kurt wanted nothing more than to make it all go away, to feel that nothingness again. He would deal with the nausea and hangover when they came. In fact, he'd welcome them with open arms if it meant that he could stop feeling.

Even if it was only for a little while.

His mind made up, Kurt stopped pacing and wiped away the tears that were still streaming down his face. Under his fingertips, his cheeks felt warm and puffy, and Kurt didn't have to see himself to know that he was all red and blotchy. Which, of course, only made matters worse.

Swallowing a sob, Kurt reached out and pulled the refrigerator door open. The moment he did, the area around him was bathed in chilly fluorescent light. And standing in the glow of it, Kurt felt like he was standing in some demented spotlight that served to highlight just how cold and alone he was.

Not stopping to re-think his decision, Kurt reached for the small drawer that his dad always said was "off limits." As he pulled it open, the refrigerator's light flickered ominously, almost as if it knew what Kurt was about to do. And even though it was merely a failing bulb, it was almost like a warning, like the appliance was giving him a chance to stop, walk away.

But Kurt wasn't in the mood for cryptic messages from his subconscious, because he'd made up his mind. And he wasn't about to change it.

Kurt looked into the small drawer at the six bottles of Goose Island beer staring up at him. The white goose at the center of the black, white, and red label seemed to be accusing him of something. It was almost as if it knew the contents of its bottle were off limits to Kurt. And that only fueled his anger and determination more.

So even though he knew it was ridiculous, Kurt gave the goose a dirty look before plunging his hand into the cold drawer. The second his fingers wrapped around the chilly neck of the bottle, Kurt felt his heartbeat speed up so much that he was surprised it didn't pop out of his throat. And despite the fact that he knew the organ was still firmly planted in his chest, Kurt swallowed as if he were trying to push it back down.

With the bottle in hand, Kurt straightened up and tried to twist the cap off with his hand. The sharp metal teeth of the bottle cap bit into Kurt's palm, stubbornly refusing to move. And as the pain radiated through his soft skin, Kurt couldn't even be bothered to spare a curse or stop to look at the wound. Instead, he instinctively crossed the kitchen and pulled open the utensil drawer.

The bottle opener was buried under the spatula and barely took him two seconds to find. And the moment he did, Kurt pulled it out and placed it over the cap of the beer. With one pull, the little barrier was wrenched free. It fell to the ground and clinked metallically a few times before landing prong side up on the linoleum.

The newly opened bottle felt slippery in Kurt's palm, a thin sheen of cool sweat already forming on the outside of it. Kurt tightened his grip on the bottle, telling himself that it was because he didn't want it to slip out of his grasp and _not_ because his hands had just started shaking.

After one more look at the goose on the label, Kurt raised the bottle to his lips and drained it as quickly as he possibly could. The cold liquid poured down his throat, assaulting his senses and offending his palette. It tasted terrible and made him gag slightly, but Kurt wasn't about to let that derail his plan, his _escape_.

When the bottle was empty, Kurt all but tossed it into the sink and grabbed another. Whatever April had given him had been strong enough to numb him with one shot. And while he didn't know that much about alcohol, Kurt did know that beer was pretty weak compared to other things.

And he wasn't about to take any chances.

Kurt wanted all of the pain and agony to go away, and he was pretty sure that no matter how much of a lightweight he was, one beer wasn't going to cut it.

With the second bottle empty and in the sink with the other, Kurt reached for another.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- **Important:** I'm having some major computer issues. So, as of right now, I don't know when the next chapter will be up. Please bear with me. I'm not abandoning this story. I just might not be able to post for a while. :'(  
- To every single person who has read this story, whether you've left a review or not, THANK YOU. I'm blown away by all of your love and support.  
- Quack: Beta of beta's. Thank you SO much. I really couldn't do this without you.  
- Reviews are love.


	17. Not So Blissfully Numb

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 17: Not So Blissfully Numb**

Three and a half beers later, Kurt walked out of the kitchen door and down the driveway. He hadn't locked the door behind him, but then again, Kurt didn't really care either. All he knew was that after standing in the kitchen, draining bottle after bottle, he'd begun to feel increasingly entrapped. It wasn't that Kurt had been claustrophobic, but as the acrid alcohol had filled his stomach and begun to course through his body, the house around him had seemed to grow smaller and smaller. And it had gotten to the point where he'd needed to get out, to escape.

But he'd had to stay there in the kitchen pouring the beer down his throat until he'd felt something, anything, because he hadn't been about to quit until the alcohol had started doing its job. And if that meant he had to drink all six bottles, Kurt had been prepared to do it, no matter how terrible it tasted.

However, when Kurt had started on the fourth bottle, he'd felt the telltale buzzing begin to fill his head, giving everything an ever so slight blur around the edges. But that had been good enough for Kurt, because he had known that the mind-numbing haze he'd so desperately sought would soon follow.

So he'd placed the half-empty bottle on the table and all but ran out of his house, not caring about what he was leaving behind.

Once outside, Kurt allowed his feet to carry him down the driveway, the cool November air nipping at his cheeks and the beer working its way through his system.

And as Kurt walked away from his house, he didn't bother to pay attention to where he was going. He was out of his too tiny kitchen, and that was all that mattered. So rather than let his thoughts wander, he focused on the feeling that was slowly beginning to course through his limbs. Much like whatever April had given him, the alcohol had affected his toes, fingertips, and head first, making him feel all tingly. But the sensation wasn't enough. He wanted the sense of numbness that was supposed to come after.

However, the more he focused on it, the more sober he felt. And that only seemed to irritate Kurt more, because that _was not_ the way things were supposed to be going.

"Come _on_." Kurt stamped his foot, totally aware of just how childish that was. But the moment his white loafer-ed sole came in contact with the ground, he felt _it_, and he couldn't have been happier.

All of a sudden, Kurt's head was spinning, and his limbs were beginning to feel heavy and sluggish. And as he walked, Kurt felt like he was moving through quick sand. But unlike when he'd drank whatever April had given him, Kurt didn't feel a rush of confidence.

Instead, he'd just felt tired and heavy, but the numbness he was looking for was coming. He could feel it.

So, ignoring the desire to sit down on the sidewalk, Kurt walked and walked, reveling in the sweet relief that was now flowing through his body. As he traveled to who knew where, he tried to keep himself from thinking, instead focusing on how his body felt.

But there was one lovely thought that did make it into his head: when Saturday rolled around, he was treating himself to a spa day. He needed it, and what's more, he deserved it. And with that settled, Kurt forced his mind to clear once again.

Kurt didn't know how long or how far he'd walked when he finally looked up and took stock of his (unfortunately familiar) surroundings.

He was surprised to find that he was near McKinley, walking along the far side of the football field. And even through his drunken haze, Kurt managed to recognize the irony in the fact that he'd unconsciously returned to one of the places he hated in the world. So kicking at a stone on the sidewalk, Kurt cursed the football field and everything it stood for, enjoying the release it gave him to get the feelings out. He might have been numb from the inside out, but seeing that particular pitch of land still managed to stir up a lot of animosity in him.

Without realizing it, Kurt turned and walked down the other side of the field. The ground beneath his feet was beginning to roll slightly, and his vision was beginning to blur around the edges. Kurt had known that he was buzzed from the fuzzy warmth that had spread through his body, but now he was totally drunk.

Now, all thoughts of Finn and Puck were gone, and all that was left was a nagging feeling of heartbreak swirling around in the pit of his stomach. It seemed to sit there and tug at his consciousness, but Kurt was able to ignore it. Rather, he chose to focus on a squirrel that was sitting in the grass. It was sitting on its hind legs, rubbing its front paws over its little face.

As Kurt drew nearer, it leaped away, but something seemed to be… off about the squirrel. Each bounding arc it took seemed to carry it higher and higher. And Kurt was sure that if a strong enough wind were to come up, the squirrel would be carried away with it.

But before that could happen, the carnivorous roar of a lion rumbled menacingly behind Kurt causing the impossibly weightless squirrel to fly up the nearest tree.

Kurt knew he should have been afraid of the noise, after all, there was a _lion_ behind him. But a teeny, tiny part of his brain was telling him that that was ridiculous, that there couldn't possibly be a lion skulking around McKinley High's football field.

But even if there wasn't a carnivorous beast behind Kurt, there was still _something_ lurking there. And whatever it was, it was loud and angry. However, even though Kurt knew that he didn't want to see the thing that was behind him, he wasn't afraid. It seemed like, along with his feeling and pain, the beer had deadened his sense of fear and self-preservation as well.

And prepared to face what Kurt was pretty sure was his doom, he spun around, wavering a little from the force of the movement. When his eyes landed on Puck jogging towards him, his truck parked by the road instead of a lion, Kurt took a couple of unsteady steps backward. He stumbled over a rock, and as he tried to catch himself, Kurt's world gave an uncomfortable shift. Somehow though, he managed to stay on his feet. But even though he did, it took every last drop of the coordination he still possessed for Kurt _not_ to fall on his butt.

"Kurt!" Through his haze, Kurt was able to make out the anger and concern in Puck's voice. And that sound caused the mad ball in the pit of Kurt's stomach to pulse fiercely, because Puck didn't have any right to be angry.

But before Kurt could run away or strike out or… anything, Puck's strong hands were gripping his shoulders, holding him painfully in place.

As Puck's fingers dug painfully into Kurt's shoulders, Kurt tried to pull away, twisting his body in an effort to free himself. However, his attempts were useless. Puck was too strong, and Kurt was too drunk to really put up much of a fight. But still, he tried. "Let… Go…" Kurt's words were low and dangerous, if slightly slurred. "_Now_."

Puck, however, didn't listen. Instead, he just leaned forward a little, looking directly into Kurt's eyes. And even though Kurt's world was spinning and changing colors faster than a tacky tie-dye t-shirt, Kurt could tell the other boy was searching for something.

Unwilling to give Puck anything he wanted, Kurt turned his head away and started out across the football field.

But Puck wasn't about to let him escape that easily.

He released one of Kurt's shoulders and used the now free hand to take hold of Kurt's jaw. And as Puck turned his face back, it didn't even occur to Kurt to protest. Against his cheek, Puck's hand was so warm and sure. And as Puck slipped his hand over Kurt's cheek, the calluses on his fingertips sent shivers down his spine.

At that moment, it would have been _so_ easy for Kurt to lean forward and press his lips against Puck's. But as the thought flitted through Kurt's mind, the angry ball in his stomach expanded, filling his entire rib cage. The fierce surge of emotion was enough to soak through his alcohol-induced numbness, reminding him of just how angry he was.

"Dude, you're totally wasted!" Puck sounded angry, but as far as Kurt was concerned, the other boy didn't have any right to be upset. And because of that, Kurt wasn't about to stand there being manhandled any longer. _Especially_ after Puck had used one of Kurt's least favorite words in the English language.

Fed up, Kurt began to struggle against Puck's grip once again. And as he did, he hurled (what his alcohol-drenched brain was telling him was) a snappy retort at Puck. "Don't… Call me…"

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. No _dude_. Got it." Puck's voice was full of sarcasm, and the more Kurt struggled, the tighter Puck held on. "Just chill, man. We need to-"

"Chill? Chill!" The words seemed to slide out of Kurt's mouth, taking longer to pronounce than was really necessary. But if Kurt could understand himself, then he figured that Puck could as well. After all, Kurt was an excellent speaker who had no trouble expressing himself verbally.

Thoroughly worked up now, Kurt gave another pull, trying to free himself of Puck's grip. The force of the movement caused the world to lurch around him and the contents of his stomach to flip upside down like a snow globe that had been shaken violently. And before he could try to contain it, a long moan escaped from Kurt's lips. Not so much from nausea, but from realization.

The pleasant numbness was wearing off, and all of his pain and anger was about to come rushing back.

And Puck was going to be there when it happened.

The thought of Puck being near him, touching him, caused Kurt's stomach to clench painfully. The whole point of getting drunk was to escape from all of the pain Finn and Puck (ok, mainly Puck) had caused him. But it seemed like the more he tried to escape from it, the more the pain held on.

Puck's grip tightened on Kurt's arm again, and it was beginning to feel like a vice. Kurt batted at it half-heartedly, trying to ignore the nausea that was quickly overtaking him. "Let go…"

"Come on." Puck tugged a little on Kurt's arm, attempting to pull him towards his beat up truck. "We gotta get you home."

"No. I don't… Let go…" Kurt was struggling against Puck, trying to dig his heels into the sidewalk. "Stop…" With each word, the acrid taste of bile began to rise up in the back of Kurt's throat, and it was with great effort that he spoke at all. "Let…"

"Not gonna happen, Hummel." Puck stepped forward and instantly, Kurt stepped back, wanting to be as far away from Puck as possible. But as he did, he stumbled over a branch that had fallen from a nearby tree. But unlike before, Kurt wasn't able to catch himself, and if it hadn't been for Puck, he would have dropped to the ground.

"Whoa…" Puck's voice was calm, but he reached out with a speed and sureness that amazed Kurt. And the next thing he knew, Puck slid his arm around Kurt's waist and was supporting him as he began to lead Kurt towards the truck.

Kurt didn't try to protest or struggle like he had before, because it seemed pointless. He still hated the fact that Puck was there, touching him, but the steadily growing nausea in his stomach was all he could think about. And with each sluggish step they took, that feeling seemed to get worse and worse. "Just… I need to rest…"

"Nope. We're almost there." Puck tightened his arm around Kurt's waist, pulling Kurt's body closer to him. And even though Puck wouldn't let him stop moving, being partially carried helped a lot. It was much easier to move with someone supporting most of his body weight.

But more than that… Kurt found that he was comfortable.

And that as mad as he was at Puck, he didn't want him to let go.

Kurt couldn't help but hate himself for that. But he just couldn't help enjoying how it felt.

Puck's body was so warm and, despite his muscular physique, soft that Kurt was pretty sure could melt right into Puck if he really tried. And unable to stop himself, Kurt let his head fall sideways so that it rested on Puck's shoulder.

Puck didn't say anything, but Kurt vaguely noticed that the hand around his waist clenched once, twice, before relaxing against his hip once again. And before Kurt realized what he was doing, he sighed in response. Even though Kurt knew that Puck was the root of all his problems, it just felt _so_ good to be held by him.

Better than he cared to admit actually.

"Ok…" Puck's voice pulled Kurt out of his reverie, and now that he was no longer focusing solely on the body pressed against his, the nausea came rushing back full force. Instinctively, Kurt turned his head, wanting to bury his face in Puck's shoulder once again, but Puck was pulling away.

Kurt moaned in protest (and because of his rolling stomach), but Puck didn't stop. Instead, he took Kurt by the shoulders again and turned him so they were standing face to face. And though his eyes were growing increasingly tired, Kurt could see that Puck was leaning forward, trying to lock their gazes together. But all Kurt wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep…

"Hummel!" Puck gave Kurt's shoulders a small shake, and Kurt felt as if a tornado had just ripped through his stomach. "Hummel! Listen to me."

"I'm lis…" Kurt's voice trailed off as the acrid taste of bile began to creep up the back of his throat.

"You have got to promise me something." Puck's voice was hard and dangerous, and Kurt could tell that he was deadly serious.

"Wha…" The word died on Kurt's tongue as his stomach clenched painfully. As soon as the pain subsided, Kurt tried again. "What?"

"You have to promise that you _will not_ heave in my truck." The hands on Kurt's shoulders tightened as Puck tried to hold onto Kurt's focus.

"I… I…" Kurt swallowed, trying to push down the growing nausea that was taking over his entire body. "Take me home. Pl… Please."

Through his bleary gaze, Kurt could tell that Puck didn't look totally convinced (or satisfied), but Puck nodded his head anyway.

"Come on…" Puck shifted his hold on Kurt's body, slipping one arm around his ribs to support him. Kurt tried to stand on his own, but his knees were weak, and his legs were trembling. So he allowed himself to lean against Puck as Puck fished his keys out of his pocket.

When the passenger side door of the truck was open, Kurt didn't protest as Puck all but lifted him into the cab. And after Puck helped him buckle his seat belt and close the door, Kurt leaned against it, his cheek pressing into the cool glass of the window.

If it hadn't been for the vicious growl of the truck's engine, Kurt was pretty sure that he could have fallen asleep right there. But the rumbling of the vehicle beneath him wouldn't allow it. It was too loud, and the jarring movements of the truck tearing over the gravel kept him from being able to settle into the seat. (Kurt couldn't help but think that his dad had been right, there was something wrong with Puck's truck.) So Kurt crossed his arms over his nauseous stomach as he focused on the cool glass under his cheek. And focusing on the cool window, he tried not to notice how long it was taking to get home.

The drive from Kurt's house to McKinley High was about ten minutes, fifteen on a bad day. But as Puck hit what Kurt was positive was _every_ speed bump and pot hole in all of Ohio, he was pretty sure that Puck had taken some long route that he didn't know about.

Kurt was just about to ask what was taking so long when the truck jerked again, causing his stomach to turn painfully. A soft moan escaped his lips, and Kurt didn't bother trying to hold it back. His stomach hurt, and he felt sick, about as sick as he'd felt right before he'd puked all over Miss Pillsbury's pumps to be exact.

"Come on, man. We're almost there." Puck sounded desperate, and Kurt felt the truck speed up under him. "And you promised –"

"Didn't -" Kurt sucked in a deep breath as the truck swung around what must have been a corner. His eyes were still pressed shut, and Kurt was glad that they were. He didn't think his stomach could have handled watching the trees and houses flying by outside the window.

"Did so." Puck's tone held no room for argument, and neither did the bile rising up in the back of Kurt's throat. "Come on, Hummel. We're here."

The truck stopped running and Puck was out of it before Kurt could figure out what was going on. All he knew was that the door he was leaning against was being pulled open, and if it hadn't been for Puck supporting him, Kurt would have fallen out and onto the ground. As it was, Kurt didn't think he'd be able to get out of the truck on his own. "I…"

"Kurt!" Burt's voice came booming down the driveway, his footsteps thundering along in his wake.

"Dad…" Kurt's stomach clenched again, his face scrunching up in pain. With his eyes tightly shut, he took a few deep breaths in an effort to force the contents of his stomach to stay where they were.

When two strong hands wrapped around his knees and shoulders to pull him out of the truck, Kurt didn't protest. Instead, he allowed himself to be picked up, relaxing into the arms around him. "Mr. Hummel, I didn't -" Puck's chest rumbled under Kurt's ear as he spoke.

"I know, son." Kurt could hear the mixture of emotion in his dad's voice. There was fear, anger, anxiety, and worst of all… worry. Kurt wanted to tell him he was fine, but he couldn't open his mouth for fear of vomiting. But when he felt his dad's hand press against his forehead, Kurt felt a hot tear slide down his cheek. "Let's get him inside…"

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- **Important:** After many, _many_ setbacks, I'm back. FINALLY. (Now that I've said that though, watch something else happen, lol.)  
- To everyone who has been following this story… THANK YOU. Your patience and you support is amazing.  
- Quack: Without you, there would be no Squeeka. For serious.  
- Also? I _live_ for tie-dye everything.  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	18. Drunken Lullabies

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 18: Drunken Lullabies**

The sweat rolled down Kurt's back in rivulets, soaking into his pale blue cotton shirt as soon as it made contact with the fabric. It left him feeling as if he was wearing a wet blanket, and Kurt wanted nothing more that to peel it off of his burning skin. But before he could even raise one hand to start undoing the buttons, Kurt's stomach contracted painfully, and he threw up into the toilet yet again.

Even though Kurt was pretty sure that nothing else was going to come up again (yet anyway), he kept his head over the porcelain bowl. His elbows were resting on the edges of the toilet, and his forehead was in his hands. Every last inch of his body was trembling, and it let Kurt feeling weak and defenseless. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in the bathroom, but he'd thrown up… _a lot_. How many times, Kurt wasn't sure. He'd lost track long ago, and his knees were aching from kneeling on the floor so long.

In the time that Kurt had had his head over the toilet, he'd overheard Puck and his dad talking in the background. And from what he'd been able to make out, Burt had known that Puck hadn't been to blame because of two things. The first had been that Kurt had left the house unlocked. The second had been that all of Kurt's things, cell phone included, had been left in the Navigator. And the _only_ reason Kurt would have left his cell behind was if something was wrong, so Burt had called Puck's mom. They'd gone on to talk about it some more, but Kurt's stomach had cramped up painfully, and he'd ended up heaving painfully for the next few minutes.

Once the puking subsided, Kurt felt a cool towel being pressed again the back of his sweaty neck. It was so soothing that Kurt wanted to wipe the compress over his face, but he was too afraid to move. So he just sat there, focusing on the coolness at the back of his neck.

And if it hadn't been for his father saying, "Here. Make sure he sips it. No chugging," Kurt wouldn't have thought twice about who was holding the rag to the back of his neck. But once he realized that it was Puck, Kurt was able to think of nothing else.

Puck had been there with him, all but holding Kurt's hair back as he'd puked his guts out. And after what had happened, Kurt now wanted to be as far away from Puck as possible. Because Kurt was angry and hurt but also… embarrassed. He was desperate to escape from Puck, to hide his face in something _other_ than a toilet bowl. And the anxiety his emotions caused him left Kurt crying silently into the recently flushed bowl.

When Kurt was fairly positive that he was finished vomiting, he pushed his hair away from his face and wiped away his tears, not caring about how he looked. The sudden movement caused Puck to pull the washcloth away. And for just a second, Kurt thought that maybe he'd be able to finally get away from the other boy.

But Puck had another idea…

"C'me here…" Puck reached out and gently took hold of Kurt's elbow. At first, Kurt resisted, but when Puck tugged again, he allowed himself to be pulled backwards. It wasn't that Kurt wanted to move towards Puck, but he just didn't have it in him to put up much of a fight.

So Kurt followed as Puck pulled him back so that he was sitting on the tile floor next to him, both of their backs pressing against the wall. Kurt thought that since he was finally sitting, Puck would let go of his elbow, but he didn't. Instead, the other boy held on as he slid himself closer to Kurt. So close that their knees and shoulders were pressed slightly together.

And Kurt…

He wanted to push himself away from Puck, to make some space between them. Because it seemed like the closer they were, the more Kurt's mind replayed what had happened earlier in the day. And it hurt. It hurt so much that Kurt didn't think he'd ever be able to breathe properly again.

But even though it killed him to be so close to Puck, Kurt found that a tiny part of him craved the nearness and the affection. He _needed_someone to be there with him, caring for him, even if that person had broken his heart.

And Kurt couldn't stand the fact that Puck was able to hurt him _that_ badly and that he would _still_ want Puck around…

It angered Kurt so much that he felt his eyes well up with fresh tears that spoke of disappointment and self-loathing. He didn't want Puck there, but Kurt _needed_ him. It was sick and unfair, and Kurt just knew that he'd hate himself for it in the morning.

But morning seemed so _very_ far away, and Kurt decided that he would deal with it when it came…

"Here…" For the first time, Kurt noticed the can of 7-Up in Puck's hand. There was a fine layer of sweat on the outside of the can that made Kurt wonder just how long they'd really been in his bathroom. "Your dad wants you to drink this."

Kurt reached out and took the can of 7-Up from Puck. Kurt's hands were still shaking slightly so he held onto it with both hands to keep from spilling it. "Oh, he also said to make sure that you sip it." Puck sounded a little confused, as if he didn't understand. And for a second, Kurt wondered what Ms. Puckerman gave Puck for an upset stomach when he was little.

"Thanks." The word came out sounding thick and labored. The inside of Kurt's mouth was coated with bile and who knew what else, and he was desperate to be rid of it. Slowly, he raised the cool can to his lips and took a small sip, praying that he wasn't going to regret it in a few minutes time.

The carbonated drink slipped over his tongue, washing away some of the bitterness of the vomit but not all. Kurt wanted to chug down the whole can to completely get rid of the acrid taste. But Kurt had long ago learned (the hard way) that, if he was to do that, he'd just end up puking it all back up. And that was the _last_ thing he wanted.

"Umh, where…" Kurt's voice trailed off as his stomach turned a little. When it passed, he set the can of 7-Up down on the tile next to him, unsure of whether his stomach was ready for it or not. "Where's my dad?"

"He walked upstairs a few minutes ago. He said something about needing to get someone to fill in for him at work tomorrow. He should be back soon." Puck said, sounding as if there was something else he wanted to say. "Look, Hummel…"

Puck didn't need to go any further; Kurt knew what he was trying to say. And just like he hadn't wanted to hear it earlier, he didn't want to hear it now. The wound was still fresh, and Kurt didn't think he could handle anymore. So not caring about his stomach or what his movement would do to him, Kurt shook his head from side to side in protest. "No. I told you-"

"I know. Just… _please_?" Puck sounded resigned, like he knew it was pointless but had to try anyway.

"I said…" Kurt's voice trailed off as his stomach protested painfully. He shouldn't have shaken his head. He _knew_ he shouldn't have. "No." With the word lingering in the air, Kurt threw himself to his knees and towards the toilet bowl once again. Thankfully, he managed to make it there in time before the small sip of 7-Up came up along with a painful fit of dry heaves.

When his stomach finally relaxed, Kurt stayed hunched over the toilet. His throat ached and burned, causing him to cough a little. And as he sat there, elbows on the toilet rim, head in hands, Kurt began to cry again, burning hot tears that slid down his cheeks.

He was sick.

He was tired.

And he was in pain.

The beer was out of his system, and he could feel a vicious headache building between his temples. But more importantly… Kurt felt as if his world had shattered and like he would never be whole again. And the worst part was that he didn't even know how to attempt to put it back together again.

Kurt didn't know how long he sat there with his head over the toilet; it could have been hours or only minutes. And if it hadn't been for Puck gently taking him by the shoulders and pulling him back again, Kurt might have stayed there all night. But Puck's grip was firm, and once again Kurt didn't bother trying to resist. But this time, it was because there just wasn't any point.

So Kurt just followed along as he was pulled away from the toilet. And the second he was free of it, Kurt sank to the floor, lying on the cool tile instead of leaning against the wall. He didn't want to sit up, and he wasn't sure if he could make it to his bed without help. So…

The floor was just going to have to do.

Puck, surprisingly enough, didn't protest or try to keep Kurt upright. Instead, he helped ease Kurt's aching body to the floor. But when Kurt tried to lay his head on the tile, Puck let go of his shoulders and held up his head instead. Kurt was just about to push the other boy's hands away when he felt Puck move closer.

And without asking Puck slid his thigh under Kurt's head as a pillow.

For just a moment, Kurt felt his body tense up in shock. Puck had broken his heart, and Kurt was so mad at him, but… it felt so _right_ to be there with him. Kurt wanted to blame that on the fact that he was exhausted and not thinking straight, but he knew that wasn't it.

Or, at least, not _all_ of it.

When Kurt finally allowed himself to relax, he was surprised to feel Puck's arm around drape protectively over his shoulder. The weight of it against his body was soothing, and Kurt instantly felt himself drifting off…

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Burt's voice was low, but Kurt cringed as his head throbbed in protest. Kurt had just woken up, and the full force of his hangover was working its way through his body.

"I… What…" Kurt's mind began to spin as flashes of the night before began to seep through his sleepy haze.

That first sip of beer.

Puck finding him.

Puking his guts out.

Kurt was pretty sure he couldn't recall _everything_, but what he could remember… it was bad.

Very carefully, Kurt pushed himself into a sitting positing, but the movement was enough to set his stomach rolling and his head pounding. A loan groan escaped his throat, and Kurt reached up to hold onto his aching head.

"Here…" Burt moved closer to the bed, a glass of water in one hand and two Excedrin in the other. He held out the pills first, and Kurt looked at him wearily, positive that he wouldn't be able to keep them down. His dad seemed to have been able to read his mind, because he said, "Just don't think about it, and you'll be fine."

Kurt didn't totally believe him, but he reached out for the painkillers anyway. And taking the glass of water with his other hand, Kurt popped the little white pills into his mouth. Quickly downing a third of the water, Kurt scrunched his eyes up as his stomach rolled in protest. For a few seconds, Kurt was positive that he was going to puke up the pills he'd just taken. But after a minute, his stomach calmed down a bit, leaving him with a lingering sense of nausea.

Kurt moved to place the glass of the table, but Burt took it out of his hand before he could. "Thank you." Kurt's voice was barely above a whisper, but he knew his dad had heard him.

Burt didn't respond.

Instead, he placed the glass on Kurt's bedside table before sitting down on a seat that Kurt hadn't noticed before. It was the small stool that sat in front of Kurt's vanity mirror, but now it was a foot away from his bed. And just seeing a chair sitting _there_ managed to tie Kurt's stomach up in knots. He knew what was coming, and Kurt wasn't ready for it.

"So…" Burt sat down heavily on the stool. His legs were spread wide, and his elbows were propped on his knees. In between them, Burt's hands were clasped together tightly. "What's going on Kurt? This," Burt gestured at Kurt lying in bed, "isn't you. You're smarter than this." His face was filled with so much concern that Kurt could barely stand it.

"Nothing. I, uh, I'm -" Kurt tripped over the words.

"Don't tell me you're fine." Burt's voice rose slightly, and Kurt couldn't help but shrink a little into his covers. As he did, Burt's face softened. "We both know that's not true."

Kurt couldn't answer. Instead, he just stared at his father, his throat tightening up painfully.

"Did something happen at school? Is someone bullying you?" Burt sounded angry, and his jaw was clenched together tightly as he waited for an answer.

"No, Dad. Well, I mean, they do, but that's nothing new." As he spoke, Kurt's head pounded viciously.

"Is this because of that girl we took to the hospital? Or, did something happen with your little glee club again?" Burt's eyes narrowed. "Do I need to call -"

"No!" The exclamation caused a flash of pain to shoot through Kurt's head, but it was worth it. He _did not_ want his dad to call Principal Figgins again.

"Then what, Kurt?" He looked desperate, but there was also a glint of realization in his eyes. "Is it boys? Because if it is…" Burt's voice was hesitant but resolved. "I'm here. I may not be ready for this, but _I'm here_."

Kurt stared at his father in amazement. It seemed like ages since he'd come out to his dad when in reality it had only been a couple of months. And now, here his dad was, all but pleading with Kurt to open up about the thing he'd said he wasn't ready for.

But Kurt, as much as he wanted this, _needed_ this, wasn't sure if _he_ was ready.

Kurt wanted to talk, but no matter how hard he tried to make something come out of his mouth, he just couldn't say anything. Unconsciously he began to hold his breath. And when the lack of oxygen caused his head to pound in protest, Kurt forced himself to take a few deep breaths that caused his chest to expand and contract painfully.

As Kurt struggled to breathe, Burt's eyes raked over him, desperately searching for some answer. But when he couldn't find one, he reached up and squeezed the rounded brim of his worn cap. When he dropped his hand and placed his elbows back on his knees, Kurt saw a hopelessness settle into his dad's shoulders that he hadn't seen since his mother's funeral. "I wanna help, but you gotta meet me halfway here, kid."

Burt's words washed over Kurt, and he felt a single tear slip down his cheek. And before he knew it, another one was following. "I'm so sorry, Dad." Kurt's chest hitched painfully.

"No…" Burt slid the stool closer to the bed, placing his palm on the bed spread. "Don't you be sorry."

"I just…" Kurt wiped at the tears trailing down his face.

"Did that _Puck_ boy hurt you?" Burt's eyes had narrowed again, and he looked murderous. "Do I need -"

"No." Kurt's voice was soft, but he knew that Burt had heard him because he stopped instantly. The anger on his face softening, Burt stared at Kurt, waiting for him to continue. "I mean, yes, he did. But no, you don't need to do anything."

Burt just stared at him, and Kurt watched as his father's eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"We, umh…" Kurt felt his mouth grow even drier that it already was, and his heartbeat sped up. "He, umh…"

"Did _something_," Burt put so much emphasis on the word that Kurt felt himself blush scarlet. And in an effort to try and hide his flush, Kurt turned his head away even though he knew it wouldn't really help. "Oh, Kurt…" Burt sighed deeply, as if exhausted.

"It was only a kiss." Kurt dropped his gaze to his lap, picking at a stray thread on his plush gray comforter. "And… it didn't even mean anything." It killed Kurt to admit the last part out loud, and he knew that his dad could sense that.

"How do you know that?" Kurt looked up to see his dad staring at him. Burt still looked confused, but now he also looked angry.

"He told me." Kurt didn't bother trying to hide just how hurt he really was. "I asked him, and he told me that it was just a _why not_." He emphasized the last two words, putting as much sarcasm into them as he possibly could.

Burt stared at Kurt for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing and un-furrowing. "And that's all he said?" Nothing else?"

"He tried to say something…" Kurt smacked at the stray thread in irritation. "But I told him I didn't want to hear it."

"You should have listened to him." Burt was completely serious, and Kurt opened his mouth to protest. But Burt held up one hand to keep him quiet. "I saw him with you last night. And he _definitely_ doesn't think of you as a 'why not'."

Kurt felt his eyes widen in surprise. Since waking up, he hadn't really thought about the night before. Oh, he'd had a few flashes when he'd first woken up, but that was it. He'd totally taken for granted the fact that he was home and tucked safely into bed.

He desperately tried to think back to the night before, but everything was so fuzzy. All he could seem to recall with any certainty was the fact that he had drank most of his dad's beer and that Puck had been there as he'd puked his guts up. (As well as all of the alcohol and what seemed like a month's worth of organic food.) Well… he also seemed to recall something about taking a spa day, but that wasn't important right now.

But everything else was a blur.

Quickly, Kurt tried to take stock of his surroundings. He was in bed with a hangover. It was morning or at least daytime. And he only knew that because he could see the sunlight coming in through one of the small windows. Other than that, Kurt's head was pounding, his body ached, and he was nauseous. He also seemed to be in his pajamas…

Instantly worried, Kurt pulled the comforter back and took a very deep breath before looking down at what he was wearing. And sure enough, there it was.

Puck's hideous Def Leppard t-shirt was staring back up at him.

In a very shaky voice, Kurt said, "Dad… Who changed my clothes?"

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- This chapter is dedicated to "na_shao" for making me a beautiful new wallpaper and for being a total rock star. :D  
- I know that I keep saying this, but to everyone who has stuck by this story… THANK YOU. I can't tell you how much your support means to me.  
- Quack: Thank you so much for all of you help and support. :duck:  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	19. Unwanted Visitor

******Put Me Back Together**  
**Chapter 19: Unwanted Visitor**

Burt looked… exhausted, and it was only then that Kurt realized his dad must have been up most of the night watching over him. And now that he'd realized that, Kurt couldn't help but notice the bags under his eyes and stubble on his chin. "We both did. You couldn't do it yourself."

"_Please_ tell me…" Kurt couldn't even say the words. Every last bit of him was filled with terror at what had happened, of what he _couldn't_ remember.

"He left the room when I changed your pants." Burt was totally serious, and for that, Kurt was grateful. "And we only put _that_ shirt on you, because it doesn't have buttons." His tired face looked apologetic. "All of your stuff has buttons or zippers or ties…"

Puck had seen him shirtless but not pantless. And given the situation, Kurt guessed that that was the best he could have hoped for.

And unable to say anything, Kurt just nodded. He knew what his wardrobe was like and what type of night clothes he owned. And all of the tops did, indeed, button up. But he _really_ did not want to be wearing Puck's ratty old t-shirt. Kurt would have rather gone shirtless than wake up in anything of Puck's at that moment.

"You really wouldn't have wanted to wake up in what you were wearing last night." Burt was trying to be reassuring, but _that_ comment only made Kurt feel worse, because if his dad was saying that… Then the thought of what could have happened to his clothing was unbearable. So he chose not to wonder about what happened to them right then.

"But really, son," Burt shifted on the stool, looking nervous and uncomfortable. "You should give that boy a chance to explain himself." When Kurt's mouth fell open, Burt held up one hand to keep him from interrupting. "If you don't like what he has to say, fine. But at least give him a chance. That's only fair."

Burt sounded so sincere that Kurt couldn't help but wonder _what_ Puck had done the night before. Part of him was tempted to ask, but the larger, angrier part of him refused to. He didn't want to sit there and listen to his dad go on and on about Puck holding back his hair as he puked or anything like that. Kurt just didn't think he could handle that right then. (Or ever most likely.)

"So… Is that it?" Burt sat up a little straighter on the stool, obviously trying not to look too relieved or hopeful. "Is Puck the _only_ problem?"

No, truthfully, Puck wasn't the only problem. But Kurt found that at _that_ moment, he was the only problem that mattered.

There was Mercedes and the chasm that was currently dividing them. But Kurt wasn't too worried about that. He knew in his heart that they'd work through their issues in time. They always did.

And then, of course, there was Finn.

But in retrospect, Finn's idiocy didn't seem like such a big deal. Granted, that didn't mean that Kurt forgave him or was ok with what he'd done. And he fully intended to steer clear of Finn in the future. But Kurt found that he wasn't all that upset about it.

A month ago, Finn's betrayal would have killed him. But now, there were other things that were so much more important to Kurt.

Of course, it still hurt that his first love had come and gone without so much as a first kiss. But that had everything to do with losing _that_ first and nothing to do with Finn himself.

In addition to that, Kurt _really_ didn't want to broach the topic of first loves with his dad. Talking about his kiss with Puck had been difficult as it was. He knew that they'd talk about love and sex someday, but for now, they'd both had enough.

"Yeah," Kurt shut his eyes as his head throbbed.

"Ok…" Burt's voice trailed off, as if he was trying to gather his courage. "No more secrets, ok?" Kurt opened his eyes to find his dad staring at him with concern on his face. "I know that you're sixteen and that you're not gonna tell me everything." Burt smiled a little as if remembering his own teenage years. "But the big stuff? I'm here for it, ok?"

Kurt felt the back of his throat tighten up, and rather than try to respond, he nodded his head. It hurt, oh did it _hurt_, but Kurt didn't care. He just couldn't bring himself to speak.

Across from him, Burt nodded as well before standing up. "Good." It came out sounding choked, and Kurt could see his dad's Adam's Apple moving as if he was trying to swallow his own lump of emotion. "Now, you get some rest. I already called you in sick for the day."

"Thank you." His voice was thick and shaky, but a nod wouldn't have been enough. Kurt wasn't thanking his dad for letting him skip school, and they both knew it. But Burt didn't push the matter, and for that Kurt was grateful.

"Oh. I almost forgot." Burt looked down at his son, and there was touch of _something_ in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "You're working full time in the shop this weekend. And I don't mean on the phones."

Kurt felt his mouth drop open. Normally, he didn't mind working in the shop. In fact, he always kind of enjoyed it. After all, fixing cars was the only common ground he and his dad had managed to find before Kurt came out to him.

But Kurt had (had being the key word) decided to treat himself to a spa day complete with an anti-stress facial, seaweed wrap, massage and mani/pedi combo on Saturday. Sure… it was a _major_ splurge. But Kurt could afford it. And more importantly, he _needed_ it.

"I thought I had this weekend off?" Kurt didn't think. He knew. But he also knew that picking a fight wasn't going to help matters.

"You did. Until you decided to get drunk over something a boy said to you." Burt stared at his son as if daring him to deny it. When Kurt didn't say anything else, Burt moved the stool back to its place in front of the vanity. Before heading upstairs, he turned back to Kurt. "Just get some rest. And if you need anything, I'll be upstairs. I took the day off."

Kurt didn't say anything, didn't try to protest his dad's punishment, because he knew that it was more than fair. That didn't mean he liked it, but Kurt knew that, all things considered, it could have been _much_ worse.

For instance, Burt could have taken away the Navigator again or frozen his wardrobe budget. Which, truth be told, would have been the worst possible punishment. All in all, Kurt knew he'd gotten off easy.

"Right, well…" Burt looked at Kurt for a few seconds before nodding a couple times. "I'll check on you in a little while." This time, he didn't wait for a response. Instead, Burt turned around and headed back upstairs.

As Burt's footsteps echoed through the front hallway, Kurt slid a little farther down into his bed even though he didn't want to "get some rest."

Or no…that wasn't true.

Kurt very much wanted to rest, to sleep through the worst of his hangover. But more than that, he wanted to rid himself of the weight of Puck's t-shirt. He wanted to take a shower and scrub away all of the sweat and scum of the night before.

But as much as Kurt yearned to wash away the remnants of the previous day's pain, the bathroom was so far away, and his head was pounding painfully. And the idea of hauling himself out of bed and then standing up long enough to take a shower… Well, it wore Kurt out just thinking about it.

So even though he could barely stand to be in his own skin, Kurt sank back into his bed and just gave in…

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Wrapped up in his plushest robe, Kurt sat on his couch, cell phone in hand. He'd just finished taking a shower and scrubbing off what felt like a week's worth of grime. But even though he was finished cleaning up, Kurt hadn't gotten dressed yet. The soft, clean cotton felt like Heaven against his shower-warmed skin, and he wanted to hold onto that feeling for as long as possible.

When he'd gotten out of the shower, Kurt had found his school bag, jacket, and cell phone on his couch. And the possibility of missed calls or texts had proven too much for him to resist. So despite the fact that he normally would rather wear a cotton poly blend than get his couch wet, Kurt had plopped down on the white cushion and picked up his phone.

The first thing he noticed when the tiny screen sprang to life was that his battery was almost dead. The second (third and fourth) was that he had twelve missed calls, five voice mail messages, and twenty-three texts.

Now, Kurt had expected a few missed calls and couple of texts, but he hadn't expected _anything_ like that.

Curious (and slightly nervous), Kurt decided to go through the texts first. The first one was from Puck, and it read, "I'm sorry. Let me explain." The second was also from Puck, and it started out, "What I was trying to say-" Kurt didn't want to read anymore. Instead, he deleted the message and the rest of the texts from Puck. He knew his dad had told him to give Puck a chance, but Kurt wasn't in the mood for whatever Puck had to say.

Once Puck's texts were gone, Kurt was left with just one text message and a low battery warning.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt cursed himself for not bringing his phone in the night before. But when he scanned the remaining text, which was from Mercedes, Kurt wished that the battery had died and that he hadn't been able to check anything on it. The words on the tiny fluorescent screen felt like a slap in the face after the day before.

It read, "So… You never told me… Are you and Puck, like, a couple now or something? I won't tell anyone. Promise!"

After reading the message, Kurt tossed his phone across the couch. It bounced on the white cushion before landing on the seat next to him, the screen still bearing Mercedes' text. Kurt gave the tiny device a nasty look, and a second later the screen went black, the battery finally dead.

Kurt knew it was a coincidence, but for just a few minutes, he felt triumphant.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Let me get this straight…" Burt paused, a look of confusion crossing his face. "If Puck, the boy who brought you home last night, the boy who stayed with you for _hours_, comes by…" He paused again, and Kurt squirmed a little under his searching gaze. "You don't want to see him."

"That's right." Kurt sounded falsely bright, which only caused his dad to look more confused.

"But Kurt, I thought we talked about this." Now Burt looked slightly exasperated, as if their earlier conversation had been for nothing.

Kurt felt himself sag under his dad's glare, the fake cheer gone. "Please, Dad. I'm just not ready to see him."

Burt didn't look happy, but he seemed to understand what his son was saying. "Ok. But just today. You gotta get _this_…" Burt gestured vaguely to Kurt, curled up on the couch, covered in his mom's blanket and a 7-Up in hand. "Worked out."

"I know." Truth be told, Kurt didn't have any plans to chase Puck down or listen to him. As far as Kurt was concerned, whatever they'd had going was a lie. Just one more way for Puck to torture him. And Kurt didn't have any desire to inflict any more pain on himself.

Thankfully, Burt didn't press the matter any further. Instead, he pursed his lips together and nodded as if he was satisfied with his son's answer. The look made Kurt feel guilty about lying, but he just couldn't bear the thought of facing Puck again. And the nausea and anger that Puck currently inspired in Kurt far outweighed the guilt Kurt felt for lying. At least this way, hid dad would think he'd helped. Which, he did. But Kurt just didn't agree with his advice.

No matter how great Puck had been the night before.

"So, you hungry?" Burt shoved his hands into his pockets as he looked at Kurt. "It's seven thirty, and you haven't eaten yet."

At the mention of food, Kurt's stomach lurched feebly right before giving a tiny growl. It was almost as if his stomach was at war with itself. And Kurt felt like he was just as torn. Yes, he was hungry, but he also still felt a little queasy. "Umh…"

"I can order you a salad from Uncle Mike's." A small smile crossed Burt's face, and Kurt wondered if he was remembering the day Uncle Mike had revealed his new menu, complete with three brand new salads - one of which had been named The Kurt. (Later, after _much_ protesting on Kurt's part, it had been renamed Strawberry Fields.)

The addition of salads to Uncle Mike's menu had been a birthday present to Kurt from his uncle, and he'd love it. It meant that if his dad wanted to go and hang out at the pizzeria to watch a game, Kurt could go along for dinner (not the game of course) and _not_ have to eat pizza or a burger. It had been the perfect gift considering how often his dad wanted to hang out with Mike.

"That would be great." If he could keep it down that was. Kurt was feeling better but not great. He was still a little sick to his stomach, and his headache was far from gone. But he no longer felt like death warmed over, and that was a vast improvement.

"Ok. I'll go get dinner ordered." Burt didn't wait for a response. Instead, he turned around and headed back upstairs.

Half an hour later, Burt came back down into the basement, a brown bag in one hand, a can of Coke in the other, and two trays were stuck under his arm. Flipping off the TV, Kurt thought about asking why he hadn't stacked everything on the trays and carried it that way. But he didn't. Instead, Kurt just stared in wide-eyed amazement as his dad plopped down on the couch next to him. It wasn't uncommon for them to eat together, but his dad never came down and hung out in the basement with him.

"Look, Kurt…" Burt had obviously noticed the shocked expression on his son's face. "I know we don't really spend much time together. And I know we work together at the shop and eat dinner together." He placed the sack of food on the small coffee table in front of the couch. "But after what happened, I think we should make it a point to check in with each other more."

"Umh, ok." Kurt shifted over on the couch to make room. He understood what his dad was saying, but it still seemed weird. He, however, wasn't about to argue, because as odd as it was, it was also kind of… comforting. Having his dad there, taking care of him… It just felt so surreal. And Kurt didn't think that, after sixteen years of awkwardness between them, he'd ever be able to get enough of their newfound camaraderie.

Burt opened the bag and pulled out a burger and fries, which he placed on one of the trays. "Good. Now…" He paused for a second as he pulled the salad and dressing packets out of the bag and placed them on the other tray. "What are we watching?"

When Burt passed Kurt his tray, Kurt noticed a hint of worry in his dad's smile. And he knew it was because he was worried about what he was going to have to sit through. Part of Kurt wanted to say something like, _Project Runway_ or _Desperate Housewives_, simply to see how his dad would react. But he decided not to, because he was worried it might ruin the moment. So, instead, he flipped the television back on as he said, "_White Christmas_." Kurt knew that, since it was only November, it was too early for Christmas movies. But he loved it, and it was showing on AMC, so he'd left it on.

The look of worry on Burt's face disappeared, giving way to a soft smile. "Your mother loved that movie. You used to watch it with her all the time. Even in July."

"Well, the brilliance of Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney, Danny Kaye, and Vera-Ellen know no season." Popping the lid off of his salad, Kurt smiled at his dad, Even though the memories were fuzzy, he could still recall singing along with his mom and Rosemary. Those were some of the best memories he had of his mother.

"She felt the same way." For a second, they both looked at each other, sharing a memory of a long gone past. It was peaceful and comforting, and Kurt would have given anything to hold onto it. But the subtle ding-dong of the doorbell pulled Burt's attention away.

"I…" It was obvious from the tone of Burt's voice that he had been just as involved in the moment as Kurt. And he was also just as upset that it was over. "I'll get that." Burt set his tray down and ran to get upstairs to the door.

While he waited, Kurt tore open the packet of strawberry vinaigrette dressing and drizzled it over the leafy green salad. Setting the empty plastic packet aside, he picked up one of the chunks of strawberries and popped it into his mouth. Cautiously, he bit into it and began chewing experimentally, concentrating on how his stomach reacted.

But just as Kurt swallowed, he heard his dad's voice echo down from upstairs. "No, sorry, Puck. He isn't really feeling up for visitors right now."

Instantly, Kurt lost whatever appetite he had.

And as Rosemary began to sing, he also changed his mind about which song he was going to sing for Mr. Schuester's Free For All tomorrow.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- I keep trying to think of new and exciting ways to say how thankful I am for everyone's support. Unfortunately, nothing ever seems to be new or exciting enough. And more than that, nothing ever seems to convey just how very thankful I really am. So, I say to all of you, simply and humbly… Thank you.  
- Quack: Forget being an awesome beta. You're an awesome person and friend. And that's so much better than being good with the commas. :duck:  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	20. Please

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 20: Please**

"You look _terrible_." The concern all but oozed out of Mercedes' soft voice.

And even though Kurt knew she wasn't trying to insult him, he was still irritated by her comment. He knew how bad he looked today. He didn't need anyone else, especially his _best friend_ to point it out to him.

After all, weren't the ones who loved you the most supposed to tell you that you looked fabulous no matter what?

Apparently, Mercedes didn't understand that. If she did, she _never_ would have pointed out just how awful Kurt looked.

With his face buried in his locker, Kurt took a deep breath, swallowing as much of his anger as possible. Unfortunately, it was too big a gulp for him to be able to get rid of it all. And before he could stop himself, Kurt slammed his locker door shut. "Thank you so much, Mercedes." He took a moment to pointedly appraise the girl's outfit – a black sparkly sweater and hot pink, leopard print skinny jeans. It was positively _atrocious_. "Still favoring tacky neon animal prints, I see."

"Ok, that was just mean." The hurt was apparent in Mercedes' brown eyes, and Kurt felt instantly guilty.

"I'm sorry." And he was. "It's just that…" Kurt looked away from Mercedes and sighed. The exhalation of breath caused what was left of his headache to flare painfully for a few seconds before dying back down. "I know that I look less than presentable today, and it's embarrassing."

Mercedes reached out and placed her hand on Kurt's arm. The simple touch pulled his focus away from the crowded hallway and back to her. "You don't really look that bad. Just like you don't feel well." She smiled at him kindly before pulling her hand back.

Deep down, Kurt knew she was right. Well, not right that he didn't look _that_ bad, because he did. But right about the fact that he looked like he'd come down with some bug or other. Because despite his perfect ensemble and carefully coifed hair, Kurt was paler than normal, and there was a deep purplish tinge around his light blue eyes. He'd tried a touch of the concealer that all of the boys in glee wore when they performed, but it hadn't helped much.

"What happened to you yesterday? I called the night before and left you a couple of messages and a text. But you didn't get back to me." Mercedes linked her arm though Kurt's, and together they headed towards their first period classes. They didn't have the same one, but they were right across the hall from each other.

"Oh, really?" Kurt tried to sound innocent. "I didn't receive any of them. My phone has been acting strange here lately though." He hated lying to Mercedes, but Kurt didn't feel like explaining why he'd deleted all of his texts and voicemails from Thursday.

"Huh. You should have your dad get you a new one then." From her tone, Kurt was pretty sure that she'd believed him. But the fact that his lie had been convincing didn't make him feel any better.

In fact, it made him feel worse.

"I'll… I'll have to do that." His voice was low, and Kurt was positive that he sounded just as guilty as he felt. But thankfully, Mercedes didn't seem to notice. That or she just didn't mention it. But he'd never known her to _not_ call him on something.

"You better!" Mercedes nudged his shoulder a little bit and made a show of smiling up at Kurt expectantly. And Kurt couldn't help but smile a little himself. "If you don't, how else will I get the down low on what's happening between you and -" The smile that was on Mercedes face fell as she caught sight of something over Kurt's shoulder. "Puck."

Kurt turned a little to see what his best friend was looking at. But the moment she said "Puck" and Kurt saw _him_ walking towards them, Kurt wished he hadn't. Just seeing Puck striding towards him, eyes focused and intent, made Kurt's stomach clench painfully.

His first instinct was to turn and run the other way, but Mercedes' arm was still threaded through his, effectively holding him in place. And his best friend must have sensed his anxiety, because the arm through his tensed slightly. She also looked up at him with uncertainty in her eyes.

But before she could say anything, Puck was standing in front of them.

"Hey, Mercedes." Puck looked directly at the girl, purposely ignoring Kurt. "Could Hummel and I talk alone?" He started at her intently, his eyes pleading and pathetic.

"I…" Mercedes looked up at Kurt, silently asking him what to do. And Kurt did his very best to convey to the girl that he didn't want to be left alone with Puck. Which she seemed to understand, because her kind eyes hardened slightly as she turned back to the other boy. "I don't think -"

"_Please_." There was so much desperation in the word that Kurt swore he could feel it seep through his body. As they stood there, Puck still didn't look over, and Kurt knew that Puck was doing his best to soften up Mercedes. "Please." This time Puck's voice was a whisper so low that Kurt couldn't even really be sure that the other boy had actually spoken.

"I…" Mercedes sighed deeply, and Kurt could feel the resignation and apology fill her body through their still linked arms. "Fine."

"Fine?" Kurt had known it was coming, but it still irritated him to hear his best friend hand him over so easily. "Since when do you care if _Noah Puckerman_ says please?" Upset, Kurt pulled his arm out of Mercedes and crossed it over his chest.

Mercedes looked apologetic as she pulled her own arm back. "Since I feel _really_ bad about siding with Finn the other day."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt noticed a small smile tugging at the corner of Puck's mouth. It was slight, but it was definitely there. And its smugness irritated Kurt more than a mismatched ensemble.

Kurt was just about to tell the other boy off for it when Mercedes spoke again. "And you know that I -"

"Don't." Kurt's voice was full of warning. He knew _exactly_ what she thought of him and Puck. And Kurt _did not_ want her to voice said opinions around the other boy. Especially not when it seemed like Mercedes was all too willing to be sympathetic towards him.

"Fine." Her eyes met Kurt's, letting him know silently that she still felt there was something going on between the two of them. Even if she couldn't say it out loud. "But I'm still going."

"Thanks, Mercedes." It was clear from Puck's tone that he really did appreciate her gesture. The grin from a moment before was gone from his face, and now he looked… Well, Kurt didn't really know _how_ he looked.

Nervous, perhaps?

Maybe resolute?

A little worried?

Nothing really seemed to fit.

"Yeah, well…" Mercedes looked Puck up and down as if seeing him for the first time. "Don't expect me to do it again." Apparently she didn't feel _that_ guilty after all.

Puck pressed his lips together and nodded like he understood that she was going to give him one (and only one) chance. And if he were to mess it up…

Well, Kurt was sure that Mercedes would come up with some suitable punishment for him.

"Don't screw this up, Puckerman." Mercedes' eyes flickered from Puck, who was still unreadable, to a murderous looking Kurt. "Whatever _this_ is…"

"It's nothing. _That_ is what this is." Even though Kurt was trying to control his anger, he could hear his voice shaking. And out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Puck staring at him, his jaw noticeably clenching and unclenching.

"I'll see you at lunch, Kurt." Surprisingly, Mercedes' voice was light, like nothing had happened, like she hadn't just sold him out to Puck.

"No, you won't." Kurt knew he sounded petulant, but he didn't care. He was angry at Puck, and he was angry at Mercedes. And he wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl back into bed. But no, that just wasn't going to happen.

And now, thanks to his best friend, he was stuck with Puck.

Alone.

"Yes, I will." Mercedes reached out and squeezed Kurt's arm. It took all of the willpower he possessed to keep from pulling his arm out of her grasp. Before walking away, she gave him one last look that said, "It's for the best." Though, how she could know what was for the best for him was beyond Kurt considering that she didn't know what had happened.

Kurt just sighed and said, "Whatever." However, she was long gone by the time the word was out. But Kurt didn't care. He was tired of her all-knowing sympathy. And he could just imagine the _look_ she would have given him if she'd heard what he'd just said.

As he watched his best friend retreating down the hall, Kurt crossed his other arm over his chest. And for just a second, a short _blissful_ moment, Kurt forgot about the fact that Puck was standing there waiting for him.

In that short time, everything seemed ok again.

He wasn't recovering from a hangover, and Quinn hadn't miscarried.

Puck hadn't kissed Kurt, and Finn had never used him.

Standing there, he was just Kurt Hummel. A sixteen year old soprano who was in love with a boy he could never have.

And all it took to ruin Kurt's reverie was one word, spoken lowly and carefully. "Hummel."

When that one word, his own name, met Kurt's ears, he felt his world burst like a balloon. And just as quickly as the reality of his situation came rushing back once again, he felt the misery settle back into his shoulders. "What do you want?" His response came out sounding short and angry, both of which, Kurt was.

Amazingly enough, Puck didn't recoil or even flinch. Instead, he took a step closer to Kurt, ignoring the fact that Kurt visibly tensed as he did so. "We need to talk."

"I believe we've said everything that needs to be said already, Puckerman." Kurt tossed his head back a little even though it caused his still aching head to pound a little more.

"No, we haven't." There was barely any space between them now, and Puck was looking down at Kurt. His brown eyes were narrowed angrily, and Kurt wished he could take a step backwards, to put a little space between them. But with the lockers behind him, there wasn't any room. "_You_ got to talk. But I didn't remember? You didn't want to hear _me_."

"And I still don't." And he didn't. Kurt knew that his dad had told him to hear Puck out, to find out what Puck's reason for… For what?

Seducing him?

Buddying up to him?

Getting close enough to able to hurt him?

Really, it didn't matter just what Puck had done… _All_ that mattered was that Kurt did not want to hear another word out of Noah Puckerman's mouth.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have…" Kurt pointedly tried to step around Puck.

But Puck matched his move, keeping him trapped against the lockers. "No, I won't."  
Kurt felt his eyes narrow in anger, but his heart sped up in fear. It had been such a long time since Kurt had felt trapped by Puck that he could barely stand it now. "Get out of my way."

"Did you even listen to my messages or read my texts?" Puck completely ignored Kurt's demand, and Kurt could tell that there was no way he was going to be able to escape. That knowledge caused his heartbeat to speed up even more, causing it to beat painfully against his ribs.

And that angered him. He was tired of feeling useless, helpless. Kurt was tired of not standing up to the bullies in his life. That wasn't to say that he _never_ defended himself. But more often than not, Kurt chose to sit back and just deal with whatever was coming his way.

But those days were over…

"No, Puck." With a new sense of anger, Kurt straightened his spine, unconsciously moving towards Puck. "I deleted them all."

Puck laughed, but rather than sounding amused, it was laced with sarcasm. And when he spoke, Puck sounded defeated. "Of course."

The response was simple, and yet it implied so much.

It was almost as if Puck had known Kurt wouldn't read or listen to any of his messages, but he'd tried anyway.

It was almost as if Puck knew he'd screwed up but wanted to be able to redeem himself.

It was almost as if Puck wanted, _needed_, to make things right between them.

And that thought, that possibility…

It caused Kurt's anger to slip away ever so slightly.

He could feel the tension leaving his body, and he found himself wanting to reach out, to place his hand on Puck's arm.

But he couldn't.

He _wouldn't_. Puck had hurt him so deeply, and Kurt wasn't about to let that slide just because of a pair of puppy dog eyes.

So, Kurt tried to hold onto his anger, reminding himself of just how awful he'd felt after Puck's confession. And while it worked some, Kurt couldn't fully erase the moment of sympathy he'd just felt for the other boy.

"What can I say?" Kurt's voice was low as he spat out the words. It was taking every last ounce of self-control he possessed to say them at all. "I wasn't interested in any more of your lies." The words seemed to hang in the air between them, and Kurt had to force himself not to look away from Puck.

"I _never_ lied to you." There was so much anger in Puck's words that Kurt could hardly believe it. But there was also an underlying layer of gut wrenching honesty that Kurt couldn't ignore. "You asked why I kissed you, and I gave you an honest answer."

Unable to stand it any longer, Kurt looked away from Puck. The once crowded hallway was now completely empty, and Kurt realized that he hadn't even noticed the bell for first period. He was late for Spanish (again) which, oddly enough, didn't seem to bother him. All that mattered was the boy before him.

"And _you_ want to talk about lying?" Puck's voice was venomous, and it pulled Kurt's attention back to him instantly. "Why'd you kiss _me_, huh? Did you think I was Finn? Or maybe you were pretending I was him?" His eyes narrowed as he viciously hurled the words at Kurt.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat as he stared at Puck. He wanted to deny the accusations, to say that Puck was wrong, but he couldn't. Because when it came down to it, Puck was right. Kurt _had_ been wishing that Finn was the one kissing him. Even when he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that it wasn't Finn, Kurt had _still_ hoped.

With the truth of that staring both of them in the face, Kurt frantically searched for something to say. But there was nothing. He couldn't deny what Puck said, because it was the truth. And they both knew it. But Kurt also couldn't bring himself to confirm it either. And as he desperately tried to come up with something, Kurt's mouth opened and closed soundlessly like a fish out of water.

Kurt's silence seemed to be the only confirmation Puck needed, and as he watched Kurt struggle, he smirked a little. "Yeah. That's what I thought." The sarcastic smile faded from Puck's face as he took a few steps back. He barely moved six inches away, but the space between them felt infinite. "But unlike _you_, I don't care. That doesn't even matter anymore."

"I…" Kurt's voice trailed off. He had nothing to say. Or really, there was nothing he _could_ say. The anger he'd been clinging to was slipping away more and more, even as he tried to hold on. And in its place, Kurt was left with a heartbreaking sense of loneliness and longing. His knees were trembling, the palms of his hands sweating, and Kurt had to force himself not to scream at Puck, "Then what _does_ matter?"

Because if the kiss they'd shared didn't matter…

If the reason behind the kiss didn't matter…

Then what did?

Why wouldn't Puck just leave him alone?

"You know what?" Puck tore his eyes away from Kurt and looked down the deserted hallway for a moment. When he turned back, Kurt was shocked by the fierce determination in his eyes. "I don't wanna hear it." Kurt knew that Puck had purposely chosen those words, but he couldn't find it in himself to be offended. "But I'll tell you this…" He paused and Kurt felt himself tense in anticipation. "This," Puck gestured at the space between them. "It ain't over."

Even as Kurt's heart thudded in response, a tiny part of him _still_ wanted to fight back. And before Kurt could stop himself, that part spoke up. "There is no _this_." It sounded weak even to his own ears, and Kurt instantly wished he could take it back.

Puck stared at him, his deep brown eyes reaching into the depths of Kurt's soul. The silence between them was laden with all that had been said and left unsaid. And though Kurt could barely stand it, he couldn't move or even speak.

In fact, he could barely breathe.

Across from him, Puck was nodding ever so slightly, his lips pursed together. When he spoke, Puck's voice was nothing more than a whisper. "Yeah, there is."

Without waiting for a response, Puck turned and walked down the hall, leaving Kurt there to stare after him.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. From just reading to reviewing every chapter (and everything in between)… THANK YOU. Your support means more than I can say.  
- Quack: Thank you so much for all of your help and support. I really appreciate it. :duck:  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	21. Free For All

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 21: Free For All**

Kurt's head was _throbbing_.

Not because of the lingering remnants of his hangover, but because of Puck. Of that Kurt was absolutely certain. It certainly wasn't because of his hangover. After all, that was gone now. But the more he thought about what had happened that morning, the worse his head felt.

Unable to stand it any longer, Kurt leaned over and plucked a small bottle of Excedrin out of his bag. Twisting off the cap, he shook two of the little white pills into the palm of his hand. But before putting the lid back on the bottle, he popped the painkillers into his mouth. And cringing as the awful taste of the pills assailed his tongue, he downed half of his water bottle.

With the pills sliding down his throat, Kurt pushed the green jar back into his bag, praying that none of the teachers patrolling the cafeteria had seen it. He _really_ didn't feel like being stuck in detention just because he hadn't gone to the nurse's office for a couple of aspirin.

As he waited for the pills to take effect, Kurt picked up his fork and stabbed at the wilted lettuce McKinley tried to pass off as salad. Despite a strong desire to prove Mercedes wrong, Kurt had taken up his customary seat next to her at lunch. And amazingly enough, she'd refrained from saying anything along the lines of: "I told you so!" or "I _knew_ you'd show up."

But even though she hadn't said anything, Kurt was positive that that was _only_ because she wanted details about what had happened that morning after she'd left. Kurt had known that the instant he'd sat down at the lunch table and she'd turned her beaming, expectant face on him.

Kurt, however, had only glared at her.

He wasn't about to tell her one single thing right then and there. As far as he was concerned, Mercedes didn't deserve to know any details after selling him out. And anyways, he was too busy thinking about the fight he'd had with Puck.

In fact, he'd spent all morning playing and re-playing the scene with Puck in his head. And each repetition had only served to make Kurt feel worse. Because as much as he hated to admit it, (and he _really_ hated to admit it), Puck had been right.

He was just as guilty as Puck.

The only difference was that Puck didn't care why Kurt had kissed him back.

In fact, to Puck, their kiss didn't seem to matter at all.

And Kurt, no matter how hard he tried, just couldn't seem to get past the fact that Puck didn't care about _why_ he had kissed him back. Because when he'd found out that Puck had originally been looking for Quinn and that their kiss had been nothing more than a shot in the dark… Well, that became all Kurt cared about. And in Kurt's opinion, that knowledge had destroyed whatever had been growing between them.

But Puck…

Puck acted as if they still had something, as if there was still something pulling them together.

And as much as Kurt tried to ignore it, knowing that Puck didn't care, that he still wanted…

It touched a tiny spot deep within Kurt's heart. But he wasn't ready to let go of his anger. So he ignored the small part of himself that was whispering about how Puck was _right_.

Because he couldn't handle the fact that maybe Puck had had a point. It just didn't seem fair. After all, Puck had hurt _him_. Not the other way around. And Kurt couldn't help but hope that if he ignored the internal niggling long enough, it would go away.

"Oh, come _on_, Kurt." Mercedes voice was so close to a whine that Kurt couldn't help but look over at her. The little voice was still whispering to him about Puck, but it was becoming more and more faint. "You can't _still_ be mad at me."

Kurt stabbed at his lettuce again. He was just about to snap back, to say, "Yes, I can." But a familiar, dreamy voice caught his attention instead.

"So… have you like, " Brittany paused a foot away from Kurt to look over her shoulder. She had a lunch tray in hand that looked dangerously close to spilling on the floor. Quinn was right behind her, and she was staring down at her own tray, clearly unhappy about what she saw there. "Talked to Puck yet?"

"Kurt -" Mercedes sounded irritated, but Kurt didn't care. He wanted to hear Quinn's response to Brittany's question.

"Shhhh…" His voice was low, but he could tell by the look on Mercedes' face that she'd gotten the point. As Kurt strained to listen, he tried not to move or call any attention to himself. From what he could see, Quinn was looking at Brittany, obviously wishing she'd start walking. But Brittany was staring at her expectantly, totally unaware of Quinn's growing irritation. For once, however, Kurt found himself grateful for Brittany's absentmindedness.

"A little." Quinn lifted her gaze from the tray in her small hands. From where Kurt was, he could see her delicate fingers clenching and unclenching on the edges of the tray nervously. "He came by the hospital a few times, but…"

As Quinn's voice trailed off, Kurt felt his breath hitch. He'd heard horrible rumors about Puck going to the hospital and threatening the doctors and nurses, but he hadn't wanted to believe them. But now, he couldn't help but wonder just how much of the rumors were true.

And if Puck and Quinn had been talking…

Before Kurt could stop it, he felt a jolt of jealousy shoot through his body. And even though it lasted only a second, the feeling lingered painfully in his nerves. He felt jolted, rattled to core. However, before he realized just exactly what that meant, Quinn spoke again.

"We've talked on the phone a little too." Quinn turned her face away from Brittany. As she did, the loose pony tail at the base of her skull swayed with her. When she looked back, Kurt could practically feel the exhaustion that had just taken over her petite frame. "Look, can we go sit down now?"

"Oh, right." Brittany gave a little start as if just realizing that she wasn't still walking. "Do you think you two will…" The rest of her sentence was lost to Kurt, her airy voice being drowned out by the noisy lunch room as they walked away.

Kurt couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Over the past few weeks he'd never once thought about Quinn and Puck's relationship. After her refusal to see him at the hospital, Kurt had though that that was it and that anything the two of them had was gone. But as it turned out, Kurt was wrong, and they'd talked "a little." And if Quinn was willing to talk with Puck, what else might she, might _they_ want?

After all, Puck had admitted it. He'd only kissed Kurt, because he'd thought he was Quinn.

And Kurt couldn't help but wonder if, given the chance, Puck would get back together with her.

The part of Kurt that was mad at Puck said he didn't care one way or the other, that Quinn could have him. Because as far as Kurt was concerned, there was nothing between himself and Puck anymore. (Contrary to what Puck seemed to believe.) But the small part of Kurt that _had_ wanted to reach out to Puck that morning…

That part of him was worried.

"Kurt -" Mercedes's voice was a low whisper, but it was loud enough to catch Kurt's attention. And when he looked over at his best friend, Kurt was surprised to see that she looked just as worried as he felt.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Hey, guys!" Mr. Schuster clapped his hands together once before spreading his arms out wide. "Welcome to the first New Directions Free For All!" There was a small smattering of applause mixed with some hooting and hollering around the room, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to join in. Next to him, Mercedes reached over and slipped her arm through his. They hadn't talked about the conversation they'd overheard at lunch, but Mercedes seemed to understand what it meant.

Even if she didn't know the full story yet.

"I can't wait to see what you've picked!" The applause grew a little, mostly because of Rachel. The growing enthusiasm, no matter how slight, seemed to be fueling Schu's excitement. "So…" He scanned the room, pointedly making eye contact with each and every one of them. "Who's first?"

"Mr. Schuster," Rachel jumped primly out of her seat and approached the piano. "Since I'm the captain of this club, however unofficial that title may be, I think it's only right that _I_ kick things off." Spinning around to face the group, Rachel didn't even wait for Schuster to reply before giving Tinkles a cue.

As Rachel launched into some random pop song, Kurt sank into his seat a little and tuned her out. For the most part, it worked, and all Kurt heard was a muffled assortment of tones, much like Charlie Brown's squawking teacher. And before he knew it, Rachel was performing a curtsey as a small wave of applause broke through Kurt's concentration.

After her, Finn stepped up to the piano, patting Rachel awkwardly on the shoulder as he passed her. Kurt eyed them both, trying to decide if it looked like they'd reconciled or not. But try as he might, he couldn't really tell.

Finn was standing in front of the room looking nervous as Tinkles began to play Queen's "Under Pressure." And Kurt couldn't decide if Finn was trying to ignore Rachel or catch her gaze, because he kept looking at her, then away and then back again. It would have been comical if Kurt hadn't been in such a foul mood.

Rachel was just as confusing. She was, as usual, sitting in the middle of the front row. Her hands were folded on her lap, and her legs were crossed at the ankles. As Finn sang, she would alternate between looking up at him and studying her knees.

Based on Finn's rendition of Queen's song, Kurt guessed that Rachel hadn't helped him after all. It was obvious that Finn had practiced, but his performance lacked any real polish or finesse. And as much as Kurt couldn't stand Rachel, he couldn't deny that she knew how to perform and how to bring that out in others. There was no way she would have allowed Finn to settle for a lackluster showing in front of the glee club. Of that, Kurt was absolutely certain.

When Finn's solo came to an end, Kurt felt the pit of his stomach clench in anticipation. He couldn't, wouldn't wait any longer to perform his solo. Originally, he'd planned on doing something by Lady Gaga. But after Puck's confession and a day hungover in front of the TV, he'd changed his mind. Kurt was sure that Schuster wouldn't think his choice was appropriate for Regionals, but he didn't care. He wasn't singing for Mr. Schuster.

Kurt was singing for himself.

Without a word, Kurt took the floor, whispering a few instructions to Tinkles as he did so. And as the opening notes of the somber ballad filled the room, Kurt was overcome with a wave of emotion. It was so intense, so strong that Kurt wasn't able to make eye contact with anyone in the room. Instead, he tried to focus on an invisible spot off in the distance as he sang. "Love, you didn't do right by me…"

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt caught sight of Puck sitting in the back row and staring directly at him. And Kurt couldn't help but turn his head to look at him fully. Their eyes connected - deep brown and clear blue. "You planned a romance that just hadn't a chance -"

Kurt felt his breath hitch painfully in his chest. And for just a second, he lost track of time and of the music. All that mattered was Puck's eyes staring into his own. It had been so long since they'd just _looked_ at one another like that. There were no words, no touches, just the connection that they'd begun to share. And it wasn't until then that Kurt realized just how much he missed that unspoken bond.

Wishing he could get rid of that feeling, Kurt pulled his attention away from Puck. And when he finally recovered himself, Kurt ignored the sound of the piano, choosing instead to pick up where he'd left off with the lyrics. "And I'm through."

The look on Puck's face darkened, but he didn't look away. Kurt, however, couldn't stand the intensity of the other boy's gaze any longer. It hurt too much. So as he continued to sing, Kurt looked away and imagined that he was in the Carousel Club from _White Christmas_ instead of McKinley High's choir room.

In his fantasy, Kurt was dressed in a black velvet suit and long white sequined gloves mirroring Rosemary Clooney's classic ensemble. The room around him became a smoky white and black club with bright red curtains. And lining the walls were black and white carousel horses.

As he sang, the four boys from the film, with their tight turtle necks and sleek shiny black hair danced around him. He was lost, caught up in the moment, singing about a terrible betrayal. But as the song and his dream continued, Kurt couldn't help but remember why Rosemary's Betty had sung the song in the first place.

She'd _thought_ she'd been betrayed by Bing Crosby's Bob.

When in reality, she hadn't.

It had been a misunderstanding, and she'd ended up apologizing to _him_.

As that realization filled his brain, Kurt felt the fantasy slip away even as it mixed with his reality. The nondescript boys, the pink, black, and white club, the sparkling white gloves, they all drifted away slowly, turning back into the McKinley High choir room.

The song drew to a close just as the remaining remnants of his fantasy evaporated. And even though he knew the last line was supposed to be a strong proclamation, Kurt couldn't summon up the emotion for it.

He'd chosen this particular song as a way to finally expel any lingering feelings he had for Puck, but instead Betty and Bob had shown him a _very_ different reality. And it was one that Kurt wasn't too sure he liked.

When he sang the last line, it came out as nothing more than a painful whisper. "You done me wrong."

Without waiting for the last few notes of the song to finish, Kurt ducked his head slightly and walked back to his seat. He couldn't look at anyone but _especially_ not Puck. His performance had left him feeling unsteady rather than assured. And Kurt didn't need to look up to know Puck was still watching him. He could feel it. And as Kurt sank down into his seat, he wished that he could hide from the other boy's gaze. But unfortunately, there was nowhere to hide. And Kurt felt so exposed that he didn't even care about the polite applause coming from his peers.

And _that_ was a first.

Normally, Kurt _thrived_ on applause. Oh, he didn't live for it like Rachel did. He wasn't going to die if people didn't given him a standing ovation every time he so much as sighed in pitch. But when he heard people cheering for him… Kurt couldn't help but feeling incredible. But now, he just wished it would stop.

Next to him, Mercedes was looking over at Puck. He couldn't see her face, but he knew it couldn't be good. After all, Mercedes had said she'd only give Puck one chance, and he'd had it. So there was no telling what she would do next. And in an effort to pull her attention away from Puck, Kurt reached over and grabbed her hand. Thankfully, it worked. And as Mercedes turned back towards Kurt, Kurt desperately tried to smile. He didn't think he'd been all that successful, but she smiled back.

Just as Mercedes looked away again, Tina stood up to sing her song. The tempo was fast, and there was a rock edge to the song. But no matter how hard Kurt tried, he just couldn't pay attention. As it was, it took all of his self-control to not turn around and look at Puck.

And so caught up in his thoughts, Kurt didn't notice what song she sang or who came after. Or care. All he knew was that a while later, Mr. Schuster's voice was echoing through the room.

"Ok, guys. Great job so far!" Schu was standing up and smiling at them all. "Now, I know that a few of you haven't gone yet, but we've only got time for one more. So… Who's next?" He looked around the room but stopped on someone towards the back of the room. "Ok, Puck. What have you got for us?"

Kurt froze as he waited for… something. What he was waiting for, Kurt didn't know. But he was waiting nonetheless.

When he finally heard Puck's voice coming from behind him, Kurt let out a slow exhale. "I Don't Want To Let You Go." Puck grabbed a chair as he passed by the first row, his guitar in hand. "The Rivers Cuomo version. No the _Raditude_ one." Once he reached the center of the makeshift stage, Puck set the chair down and took a seat.

Instead of waiting for Mr. Schuster to comment, Puck swung his guitar onto his lap and began strumming it. The song wasn't fast, but it wasn't slow either, and it had a subtle driven quality about it that seemed to hum through Kurt's body. It was almost like the song was calling him, begging him to listen.

But after his own performance and the realization it had brought, Kurt didn't think he could handle listening to whatever Puck was about to sing. So he tried to block his mind, focus on other things. But no matter how hard he tried, the song kept pulling him back in…

It was almost as if the gentle chords of the guitar were swirling around him and tickling his senses in hopes that he'd pay attention. And then, there was Puck's voice. So far, Kurt had been able to tune out the song's words, but he hadn't been able to block out the tone the words that were being sung in. Puck sounded so… Not sad. But not upset either. The more Kurt thought about it, he realized that Puck's voice was a painful mixture of resolution and desperation.

Eventually, Kurt could no longer stand to ignore the gentle call of the music, and he finally gave in. And what he heard, took his breath away.

"I remember the days when I was stronger than a wall. Try as anybody might they couldn't move me at all." Puck's voice was soft, almost pleading, and Kurt couldn't help but stare at him afraid that, if he looked away, he'd missed something.

Puck, however, didn't seem to notice.

He was slightly hunched over the guitar and looking towards the floor as he sang, his foot tapping out a steady rhythm. "Now I fall to pieces," Puck lifted his eyes just enough to meet Kurt's hungry gaze, "when you softly call my name. Going up in smoke rings like a moth within your flame."

Puck dropped his gaze once again as he continued on, and Kurt felt himself shift forward slightly. He _needed_ to see Puck's eyes again, and he silently willed Puck to look back up. Kurt was desperate to feel that connection once again, if only for a few seconds. But Puck didn't look back up. Instead he continued on with his song. "I have lost all hope of being normal once again. I will be a slave to you until the bitter end." Puck's shoulders seemed to hunch a little more as if it was difficult for him to sing the lyrics. "Even if it's a hundred years before you change your mind. I will be here waiting girl until the end of time."

The words continued to flow from Puck, but Kurt was too focused on the other boy to care what he was singing. Sure, Puck had said "girl," but Kurt didn't care. He knew, without a doubt, that Puck was singing to him, _for_ him. And the lyrics, so simple, yet so full of emotion, had melted the away the last of Kurt's anger. With that anger gone, Kurt felt empty.

Like he was missing something.

Or someone.

As Puck's song came to a close, Kurt felt his heartbeat speed up painfully. The song was almost over, and Kurt had _nothing_. No ideas. No plan of attack. All he knew was that he _had_ to get to Puck.

However, right after slipping his fingers over the guitar strings one last time, Puck stood up and walked out of the classroom. He didn't wait for Mr. Schuster to dismiss them or for anyone to applaud.

He just left without a backward glance.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Puck!" Kurt's footsteps pounded against the pavement as he ran across the William McKinley parking lot. Puck was standing next to his truck, securing his guitar in its case. And just as Puck was snapping the last latch shut, Kurt came to a halting stop next to him. He was slightly out of breath, and the cool November air burned Kurt's lungs. "I -"

"Come with me." It wasn't a question. But even if it had been, Kurt wouldn't have been able to say no. It just felt so _right_ to be there with him. And for the first time in days, Kurt felt as things were ok. Or… like they were going to be ok anyway.

And without saying another word, Kurt climbed into the passenger side of Puck's truck.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- The song Kurt sang is "Love, Didn't Do Right By Me" from _White Christmas_. And Puck's song is "I Don't Want To Let You Go" from "_Alone II: The Home Recordings of Rivers Cuomo_." (It can also be found on _Raditude_, but there is quite a difference between the two versions.)  
- This fic was nominated for "Best WIP" and I was nominated for "Best Overall Author" over at the LJ community "glee_fic_awards". Head on over and vote for your favorites! :)  
- To everyone who has stuck by this story… THANK YOU. I truly appreciate all of your support.  
- Quack: This story (or any of mine for that matter) would not be possible without you. Thank you so much. :duck:  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	22. Raditude

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 22: Raditude**

Together they rode in silence, neither acknowledging the other. It was almost as if there was a huge wall between them that kept getting thicker and thicker. And after a few minutes, the tension was so palpable that Kurt found himself desperately searching for something to talk about. However, there was nothing in the passing scenery (trees and non-descript stores) that wouldn't sound lame.

Of course, there was always the weather, but Kurt _was not_ about to ask Puck what he thought about the cold snap that was sure to hit Lima soon. So Kurt turned from the window and looked at the seat between them, hoping to find something of interest there.

And what he found there surprised him.

Lying on the seat next to Kurt was a CD case, and as far as he knew, Puck owned an iPod. After all, didn't everyone own iPod's? In fact, the _only_ person Kurt could think of who didn't own one was his dad. But then again, his dad still had all of his vinyl Mellencamp albums on a shelf in the living room. So as far as Kurt was concerned, his dad didn't count.

Curious, Kurt picked up the plastic case and examined it. The front bore a picture of a large dog jumping in a living room that looked like it was chic in the 90s. And above the dog, in the left-hand corner were the words, "Weezer" and "_Raditude_." When Kurt flipped the case over, he found himself staring at a picture of four men riding bikes under a bridge. Superimposed over the image was the album's track listing.

As Kurt scanned the songs, he asked Puck, "Who buys CDs anymore?" Just as the question was out of his mouth, he noticed the name of the last song on disc one. It was "I Don't Want To Let You Go."

The sight of the song title caused Kurt's heartbeat to speed up just a bit.

"When it comes to Weezer, I do." The answer was matter of fact and so was Puck's voice. And though Kurt wanted to know what Puck meant, he felt like he'd be prying if he asked. So rather than say anything at all, Kurt just nodded as he placed the CD back on the seat next to him.

Scared to touch anything else, Kurt folded his hands in his lap and tried to look out the window. But he couldn't stop himself from looking over at Puck wishing that he could think of something to say. And before Kurt knew it, the truck's cab filled with a tension so think that he swore he could taste it. But this time, it was Puck who tried to break through the unbearable silence.

Not taking his eyes off of the road, Puck reached over and flipped on the CD player. After a second, it sprang to life with a lyric Kurt recognized as one of the song titles he'd seen on _Raditude_. "As we're tripping down the freeway…"

The song continued, and Kurt was surprised that he kind of liked the song's beat (Or… that he didn't hate it anyway.). "No way, we ain't gonna break up. We made a -"

Puck flicked off the CD player, changing it to the radio instead. And before Kurt could object or ask what he was doing, a spunky woman's voice came over the radio. "That was Pearl Jam. And now here's Weezer with 'If You're Wondering If I Want You To'-"

Before the song could start, Puck switched off the radio with a little more force than was really necessary.

Kurt didn't say anything, but he did look over at Puck. The other boy's profile gave away nothing; he was staring straight ahead at the road, his face blank. And no matter how hard Kurt tried, he could discern nothing from his expression.

"We're here." Puck's voice was flat, giving away nothing about how he was feeling. The truck pulled to a stop, and Puck shut off the truck's motor. When Kurt looked out the window, he was surprised to find that they were parked at the edge of a cornfield on the outskirts of town. It had been harvested in early fall and was now nothing more than a few acres of dried out stumps and stalks. In the distance Kurt could see a few large blackbirds digging through the debris with their beaks and cawing to one another.

"Here?" The confusion was evident in Kurt's voice, which he hated, but he just didn't understand. Why, of all the places in Lima, had Puck driven him out to a cornfield at the edge of town? Honestly, the only thing Kurt could think of was that this field would make an _excellent_ place to kill someone and then hide their body.

"Yeah, Hummel, _here_." Puck sounded a little irritated, which only worried Kurt more.

"I… Not to sound ungrateful," Kurt forced himself to sound as apologetic as possible. "But why did you bring me here?" He wanted to make things right with Puck, and Kurt knew that sarcasm wouldn't help the situation. (And on the off chance that Puck _had_ brought Kurt out there so he could kill him… Well, Kurt was pretty sure that sarcasm wouldn't help then either.)

But Puck didn't answer Kurt's question. Instead, he gripped the steering wheel tensely and turned to look at Kurt. "Why'd you come with me?"

The question caught Kurt completely off guard.

After Puck's determination to make Kurt hear him out and Kurt _finally_ agreeing to be near him… Kurt could barely believe that Puck was asking him _why_. The question seemed so insecure in comparison to the bravado Puck normally displayed, and it left Kurt reeling. Oh, he'd seen Puck less than confident before, but those times were generally about Quinn and their baby. Not himself. It just seemed so impossible that Kurt could be insecure about something that related to Kurt.

It also made Kurt realize just how very important his answer was.

"I…" There were so many reasons, so many explanations, and he struggled to find the right one.

"I… I'm not ready to let you go." Kurt's voice was soft, but it seemed to echo through the cab.

It sounded ridiculous and cliché even to his own ears, but Kurt couldn't help it. It was the truth in the plainest and simplest of terms.

Kurt prayed Puck would realize that he'd phrased his answer purposely, and he hoped that that would say it all.

A small, triumphant smile tugged at the corners of Puck's mouth. And slowly, his whole body seemed to relax a little bit. It wasn't until then that Kurt realized just how tense Puck had been. That was all Kurt needed to see to know that Puck _had_ understood. And instantly, Kurt felt himself fill with relief.

But just as quickly as the smile appeared, it disappeared. And in its place was a look of apology. "Look, I know you don't want to hear it, but I really am -"

Kurt held up one expertly manicured hand, and Puck stopped speaking, a dark look on his face. In an effort to reassure him, Kurt smiled tentatively. "Puck, it's not that I don't _want_ to hear what I'm sure is a heartfelt and well rehearsed apology. It's that I don't _need_ to hear it."

Puck stared at him for a moment before nodding slightly. It was almost as if Kurt could see his brain trying to reconcile that possibility. "Ok." Puck pulled the keys out of the truck's ignition. "Ok."

Kurt's tentative smile became more sure. And for the first time in a few days, things felt _right_ between them again. "So… Why are we here?"

"Come on." With a renewed sense of confidence, Puck shoved his keys into his pockets and hopped out of the truck.

Puck slammed the door shut behind himself before he jogged over to the passenger side door. And as Kurt watched him through the windshield, he sat in his seat feeling confused. Puck had driven him out to the middle of nowhere, and they'd come to some sort of understanding and now…. Now Puck wanted him to get out of the truck. It just didn't make sense. But before he could figure out what was going on, Puck had pulled his door open. "Well?"

"Well what?" Kurt stared down at Puck, wishing he'd shut the door. The air had grown colder - not cold enough for snow, but cold enough for a scarf. (Which, of course, Kurt didn't have on hand.)

"Are you going to get out of the truck or not?" Puck spoke slowly and deliberately, as if speaking to a small child.

Kurt couldn't help but roll his eyes in exasperation. They might have made up, but Kurt wasn't about to take that kind of attitude from him. "Not if you -"

"Come on…" Puck reached up and grabbed Kurt's elbow, giving it a gentle pull. As he did, there was a mischievous glint in his brown eyes, almost as if Puck was daring him to pull away. When Kurt didn't, he tugged softly once again in an effort to coax Kurt out of the truck's cab. And from the look in Puck's eyes, Kurt knew that Puck wasn't trying to be pushy. Instead, he was trying (_trying_ being the key word) to be sweet.

So Kurt let the objection die on his tongue and allowed himself to be pulled out of the truck. He did, however, make sure to get out with as much skill and grace as possible, setting one foot carefully on the ground before the other. After Puck's little barbs, he wasn't about to appear anything less than perfect.

"See now, it's _so_ much easier when you just listen to me." There was a dangerous hint of mischief in Puck's voice, and Kurt would have to have been deaf not to notice it. In response, Kurt shot Puck a dirty look that caused him to wink impishly.

Now that he was on the ground Kurt was no longer eye level with the other boy so Kurt had to crane his neck to look up at the other boy. "Well, I'm out of the truck." He sounded petulant, and he crossed his arms over his chest for the full affect. "Now what?"

Puck quickly took in Kurt's stance but didn't comment. "Climb up."

Kurt looked at him skeptically and shifted his shoulders to reinforce his irritation. Now, it was Puck's turn to make a show out of rolling his eyes. "Climb," he pointed at the large front wheel of the truck. "Up," he moved his pointing hands from the tire to the hood.

In response, Kurt's mouth fell open slightly, but he snapped it shut before Puck could comment. He had no desire to see how Puck would react if he acted like he couldn't do it. So Kurt clamped his jaw together and stepped towards the wheel Puck had pointed at. Very carefully, he placed his foot on the front tire and pushed up with the foot that was still on the ground.

With much less grace than he was used to having, Kurt fell onto the hood of the blue truck with a resounding thud that caused a few of the blackbirds to fly away. Hoping that Puck hadn't noticed, Kurt pulled his legs up the rest of the way so he could situate himself against the windshield.

Underneath him, the hood of the truck was still warm, and it cut through the chill of the afternoon. Unfortunately though, the chipped blue paint was covered in a layer of dirt and grime that Kurt just _knew_ was rubbing off on his plaid pants. In an effort to get his mind off of just how his clothes would recover from this ordeal, Kurt looked around for Puck.

After telling Kurt to "climb up," Puck had disappeared around the bed of the truck, and Kurt only just realized that he was still back there. But from where he was seated, Kurt couldn't tell exactly what Puck was doing. Kurt was about to call out to him when Puck came striding along the driver's side of the truck with a red, white, and black striped blanket in hand.

"Here," Puck tossed the blanket onto the hood of the truck so that it landed near Kurt's knees. And in one fluid motion, he hoisted himself up with _much_ more grace than Kurt had.

"Thank you." Kurt leaned forward and picked up the blanket. It was made of heavy fleece and had the WMHS emblem on one of the corners. With much more care than was really necessary, Kurt unfolded the plush fabric and pulled it over his outstretched legs.

Puck grunted out a low "welcome" with a pleased look on his face. "I keep it in the truck for when my mom and sister go to games." Puck situated himself on the hood, sliding over next to Kurt.

When Puck mentioned his mom, Kurt's mind flashed back to the night of his party. After returning from the hospital, Puck had fallen asleep on the Kurt's couch. And Burt had made Kurt call Puck's mom to let her know where her son was. It had been strange calling her, but Kurt had done it. The more he thought about it, Kurt realized that that was the first time he'd ever spoken to Ms. Puckerman.

And even though he'd completely forgotten about it until now, Kurt remembered something she'd said…

"Can…" When Kurt spoke, Puck's eyebrows lifted as if asking a question. "Can I ask you something?"

Puck looked slightly confused but shrugged anyway. "Sure."

"I, umh…" All of a sudden, Kurt felt incredibly self-conscious. They hadn't discussed the night Puck had stayed over. And as far as Kurt knew, Puck didn't know about the phone conversation. "The night you fell asleep on my couch…" Kurt's voice trailed off, the little bit of courage he'd mustered up fading away as Puck's expression darkened. Deep down, Kurt knew that it had nothing to do with him and _everything_ to do with what had happened _that_ night. But Puck's expression was unnerving nonetheless.

Kurt swallowed, wishing that his mouth hadn't chosen that moment to go dry. "My dad had me call your mom…" Puck's expression became unreadable, and Kurt finished lamely, "To let her know that you were alright."

Clearly confused, Puck continued to stare at Kurt. "Ok…"

"Well, when I did, she called you something…" Kurt gestured helplessly with his hands, desperately trying to remember what word Ms. Puckerman had used. "Booba… Or, bubba… Or…"

There was a dawning look of comprehension on Puck's face as Kurt stumbled over the word. "_Bubbala_?"

When Puck said _bubbala_, Kurt felt his tension ease just a little. It was the same word Ms. Puckerman had used, and it sounded so wonderful coming out of Puck's mouth. "Yes. What does it mean?"

The question wasn't even halfway out of Kurt's mouth before Puck cringed. And instead of answering, he dropped his gaze to his lap for a second. When he lifted his head again, Puck looked embarrassed and sort of… shy. (If that was even possible.) And that only made Kurt want to know the meaning of the word more. "It's Yiddish. It means _darling_."

Darling. It was absolutely perfect. Kurt smiled softly as he thought of Puck's mother calling him darling. "That's nice." Even as Kurt was thinking about Ms. Puckerman, something else occurred to him. "Wait, you speak Yiddish?"

"First of all, it's _not_ nice. It's embarrassing." Even though Puck was saying that he didn't care for his mother's chosen nickname, Kurt could tell that he didn't really mean it. Not totally anyway. The denial never made its way to Puck's eyes. And Kurt had come to learn that Puck, as good a liar as he was, could never keep the truth out of his eyes. "Secondly, yeah. A little anyway. Some Hebrew too."

Kurt felt his eyes widen in surprise. He knew Puck was Jewish, but based on the Chinese food he'd brought over, Puck didn't keep Kosher. And considering his _reputation_, Kurt didn't exactly think that Puck was too worried about his religious studies. So to find out that he could speak Yiddish and Hebrew was pretty surprising. "Say something!"

"No." Puck's answer left no room for argument, but Kurt couldn't help smiling. "I mean, I don't really know much anymore. I forgot most of the Hebrew after my Bar Mitzvah." He stopped for a moment as if considering something. "I do know a bunch of swear words though. Picked 'em up from my mom. Wanna hear those?" The look on Puck's face was positively devilish.

"No, thank you." Kurt wrinkled up his nose in distaste, thinking that he should have known. "I think I'll pass."

Puck snorted, causing Kurt to roll his eyes dramatically. But rather than shutting Puck up, the over the top display only made the other boy laugh more.

And still a little unsure of himself and what was going on between them, Kurt snapped a little at Puck. "What?"

"Nothing, Hummel." Puck's laughter died away, but the amusement still lingered in his voice. "Absolutely nothing."

Puck's response stumped Kurt, and he sat there staring at the other boy, trying to think of something to say. However, absolutely nothing came to mind. So rather than sit there glaring at Puck, Kurt turned his gaze back to the field. For just a moment, he felt Puck's eyes lingering on his face before he too turned back to the open field.

With Puck no longer looking at him, Kurt shifted a little on the hood. They hadn't really been outside very long, but Kurt's tailbone was starting to feel a little numb. And even though the movement was subtle, it caused him to slide a little to the side, bringing him closer to Puck. While it hadn't been intentional on Kurt's part, he enjoyed being closer to the other boy. So much so that he wished he could slide even closer, but Puck was staring out across the field, apparently lost in thought. And Kurt was afraid that if he moved again, Puck might run.

But when Puck turned and looked at Kurt, his brown eyes filled with so many different emotions that Kurt couldn't have picked just one if he tried. He wanted to say something, but when Puck slid closer to him, any thoughts that he'd had melted away.

The cool air between them crackled with the electricity of a million unsaid things, and Kurt felt like he'd get zapped if he tried to add another thought. And before he could try to say anything, a cool wind tore through the field that caused Kurt to shiver.

Next to him, Puck looked over, concern on his face. And before Kurt realized what was happening, Puck leaned over and grabbed hold of the blanket. Puck's soft brown eyes bore into Kurt's as he pulled the heavy blanket up a little, tucking it snuggly around Kurt's waist. For just a second, his hands lingered there, as if seeing whether or not they fit. And as he held onto Kurt's waist, Puck never looked away, and when he blinked, it was slow and deliberate.

The question was there, in Puck's eyes and the way he was gently holding Kurt's waist. And every last bit of Kurt, from his trembling hands to his rapid heartbeat was screaming out, "_Yes_, that's ok." But Kurt couldn't bring himself to say the words aloud. From fear or nerves, he didn't know, but either way, he couldn't speak.

Before Kurt could force himself to say something, Puck pulled his hands away. His face was unreadable, and Kurt suddenly felt cold and alone. He wanted Puck to look at him again with a smile in his eyes. And Kurt wanted Puck's hand back around his waist again. He hated the shut down, closed off look on the other boy's face. And desperate to get Puck to open back up, Kurt reached over and tugged softly on the elbow of Puck's letterman jacket.

The touch was gentle, but it was enough to cause Puck to turn back towards him with curiosity in his eyes. And before Kurt could stop himself, he repeated the question that Puck had avoided earlier. "Puck, why did you bring me _here_?"

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- This chapter features two songs from Weezer's _Raditude_: "Tripping Down the Freeway" and "If You're Wondering If I Want You To (I Want You To)."  
- If you have stuck by this story in any way, shape, or form…. I thank you. Your support means so much to me.  
- Quack: Thank you so, so much. I appreciate all of your hard work and support more than I can say.  
- P.S. I don't own an iPod. Nor do I want to. :P  
- **Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	23. Like Father

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 23: Like Father**

"My dad used to bring me here." Puck's voice was devoid of emotion, but Kurt could still sense the pain that lingered within him. "He was never around much, but when he was…" Puck trailed off as he stared out at the plowed cornfield. "He'd bring me out here, and we'd talk or listen to music. But most of the time, we'd just sit here."

Kurt was speechless.

He'd known that Mr. Puckerman had left when Puck was seven. And for whatever reason, Kurt could still remember the day it had happened. It certainly wasn't because they'd been close when they were in grade school or anything like that. Instead, it was the rumors and how Puck had reacted to them that Kurt still remembered. The day Mr. Puckerman left was the first day Puck beat up another kid in their class. And he'd done it because of the gossip about the Puckerman's that had quickly made its way through the school.

Soon after, Puck had set his sights on bullying _anyone_ that so much as looked at him the wrong way.

"I know people think that he was a drunk and stuff." Kurt knew that by "and stuff," Puck was referring to the rumors about his dad being a wife beater in addition to being a drunk. And to be honest, Kurt had always wondered just how much of that was just sensationalized gossip. However, with Puck about to give him the answer to that question, Kurt wasn't so sure he really wanted to know. "But none of it's true. He wasn't a bad guy. He just loved his music more than us."

When Puck finished speaking, Kurt just sat there, staring at him in sympathy. Puck, however, didn't turn towards him. Instead, he continued to stare out across the barren field. But as Kurt watched him, he knew that Puck was thinking about his dad, the pain so clearly obvious on his face. And when Puck's jaw tightened, Kurt couldn't help but regret asking why Puck had taken him to the field.

"He was there one night and then just… gone." Puck looked away from the field, but instead of looking at Kurt, he dropped his gaze to his lap. Kurt wanted to say something, to try and pull Puck's attention back to him, but he couldn't seem to find the words. So he just sat and waited, hoping that Puck was alright. And just when Kurt didn't think he could stand it any longer, Puck looked back out at the field. "All that was left was his wedding ring, a t-shirt, and a few CDs."

Unconsciously, Kurt squeezed Puck's elbow, and it was only then that he realized he hadn't let go of his jacket. At the subtle touch, Puck turned and looked down at Kurt with unreadable eyes. "I…" Kurt wanted to say "I'm sorry," but he didn't. A large part of him knew that Puck wouldn't appreciate it. After all, Kurt knew just how much he hated when people said the same thing about his mom.

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the fact that people cared. He just ended up feeling like people were paying him lip service when they offered their sympathy. It was irritating and cloying, and Kurt didn't want to do the same thing to Puck.

Even though he really did feel for him.

So rather than try to console him, Kurt tried to change the subject. "What…" The question that Kurt _really_ wanted to ask was, "What kind of shirt?" But deep down, he wasn't sure if he could handle the answer to that particular question right now. Even if he was pretty sure he already knew what shirt Mr. Puckerman had left behind, a confirmation of it would be too much. So, feeling like a coward, Kurt opted for a different question. "What CDs?"

Next to him, Puck's eyes lightened a little as they flickered from Kurt's hand on his elbow to his face. "Weezer. _The Blue Album_ and _Pinkerton_."

Kurt's mind quickly flashed back to the CD he'd found in Puck's truck and how the other boy had reacted when he'd asked why he had it. Then, Puck's vehemence about the CD had seemed strange. But as Kurt thought about the tattered copy of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ his mother used to read to him and how it was always kept on his bedside table, Kurt understood.

It was Puck's way of holding on in the only way he could.

"Are…" Kurt wanted to keep Puck talking, to keep him there with him, because he could feel Puck slipping away and getting lost in his memories. "Are the CDs good?"

Next to him, Puck shifted a little, and Kurt could practically see the weight being lifted from his shoulders. Kurt's hand was still at Puck's elbow, and rather than pull it away, he let it rest there lightly. "Oh yeah." Puck's face split into a soft smile that was filled with affection. "Doesn't get much better than _The Blue Album_ and _Pinkerton_. I mean, don't get me wrong, their other stuff is great. But _nothing_ tops Pinker… _What_?"

As Puck had rambled on about Weezer, Kurt had felt a smile forming on his own face. He'd tried to hide it by pressing his lips together, but in the end, the smile had won out. Because as much as he tried to fight against it, Kurt simply _could not_ help it. There was just something so endearing about the way Puck was going on and on about the music he loved. Sitting there, listening to Puck, Kurt realized that he'd never seen the other boy _that_ passionate about anything other than Quinn and bullying kids. And though it hurt Kurt to admit that, he wasn't going to let thoughts of the blonde (or bullying) ruin the moment.

So, acting as innocent as possible, Kurt stared back at Puck and said, "_Nothing._"

Puck didn't respond.

Didn't say a word.

But then again, he didn't have to. His face said it all.

And it _very_ clearly said, "I _will_ get you back for that." Though the promise of retaliation _should_ have been threatening, it wasn't. Not in the very least. In fact, it caused a small bubble of excitement and promise to build in the pit of Kurt's stomach. His amusement made its way to laughter. The chuckle was a cool, crystal clear sound that mingled with the crisp November air.

The noise slowly died away, and as Kurt calmed down, Puck just watched him, his deep brown eyes shining.  
For a moment, they just stared at one another, Kurt's laughter still ringing through the air. Somewhere in the field, a few of the blackbirds were fighting, their screeching caws mingling with the sound of Kurt's laughter. But it didn't matter, because neither of them seemed to notice it. All that Kurt could see and feel was Puck staring at him with depthless eyes that Kurt was sure he could get lost in forever.

The moment was so tense, so full of promise that Kurt could barely stand it. He wanted to speak, move… anything, so long as it broke the weighty silence that had overtaken them. But he was so frozen that he couldn't even seem to pry his lips apart to stutter out an "uh" or "umh."

Across from him, Puck seemed to be just as stumped. Unlike Kurt though, he didn't look uncomfortable. Instead, he seemed determined to say something. But just as he opened his mouth, a sharp wind tore through field, causing Kurt to shiver involuntarily.

Almost instantly, the expression on Puck's face changed, and though he tried, Kurt couldn't figure out just what the other boy was feeling.

And for a few seconds, Kurt watched as Puck pressed his lips together before finally speaking. But he was pretty sure that what came out of Puck's mouth was _not_ what he'd originally intended to say. And Kurt couldn't help but feel a little disappointed about that. It had felt like they were so close to… _something_, but the moment had been lost to the wind. However, Kurt didn't press the matter. "Come on." Puck shook the elbow that Kurt was still holding onto. "It's starting to get dark."

For the first time, Kurt noticed that the sun was beginning to set. It wasn't dark out by any means, but dusk was slowly falling upon them. "Wouldn't want your dad to get worried."

Under any other circumstance, a line like that would have irritated Kurt. But given what had happened the day before, Kurt knew that Puck was not only serious, but that he was also _right_. Kurt's dad had been beyond understanding, all things considered, and Kurt didn't want to ruin the progress they'd made. "Yeah, I probably should get home."

Kurt let go of Puck's elbow despite the fact that he really didn't want to and began folding the blanket Puck had given him. The moment it slid off of his legs, Kurt realized just hold cold it really was outside as another shiver quick overtook his body. And suddenly freezing, he quickly worked the black, white, and red fleece over in his hands, trying to make it as neat as his cold hands possibly could. Puck watched silently as Kurt fluffed the blanket once before extending it to him.

"You didn't have to fold that. It's just gonna tossed in the back of my truck." Puck took the blanket from Kurt and set it next to him on the hood of the truck. And just as easily as he'd climbed onto the hood, Puck slid off, his feet hitting the cold ground with a thud.

"Of course I did." And he did. Kurt simply couldn't stand when blankets were left in unfolded heaps. It wasn't that he had to have things a certain way _all_ the time. But he did prefer things to be somewhat neat and orderly.

"Uh… ok." Puck didn't sound like he totally agreed, but he didn't argue the point. "So, are you gonna get down off there or what?" He walked around the truck and stopped to lean on the hood, staring up at Kurt.

"Of course I…" Kurt had slid himself over to the tire he'd used to climb up on. And even though he was _maybe_ four feet off the ground, it suddenly seemed like so much more. Rationally, Kurt knew he'd used the wheel to boost himself up. But from he was seated, it was hidden from view, which left Kurt feeling stranded. He was used to being under the hood of cars, not on top, and the prospect of getting down was not a happy one.

And sitting there, staring down at a smirking Puck, Kurt couldn't help but feel like a kitten caught in a tree.

Unfortunately though, there weren't any firemen in sight who could rescue him.

Only Puck.

And from the amused look on Puck's face, Kurt could tell that he'd realized what the problem was.

Flushing scarlet, Kurt watched as Puck pushed himself away from the truck and moved to stand in front of where he was sitting. There was a soundless laugh rumbling through Puck's chest, and his eyes were gleaming with amusement. "Come on," Puck reached out for Kurt, waving his fingers for Kurt to slide towards him.

Kurt sighed slowly and deeply to himself in complete and utter mortification. He'd been working on cars almost his entire life, but he couldn't climb down off the hood of a beat up pickup truck. It was absolutely ridiculous. And what made it worse was that he _had_ to get down if they ever wanted to leave. So, feeling embarrassed, Kurt held his breath and slid towards Puck, not saying a word.

As soon as his legs were dangling over the side, Puck (still laughing silently) placed his hands around Kurt's slender waist. Without warning, Puck tightened his grip and pulled Kurt forward. The sudden movement caused Kurt to rock forward a little bit, and he instinctively threw his arms forward to catch himself. His hands landed on Puck's shoulders, but rather than let go, Kurt let his hands rest where they'd fallen.

Around his waist, Puck's fingertips tightened even more. Whether it was a response to Kurt's grabbing onto him or so that he had a better grip, Kurt wasn't sure. But either way, the touch caused Kurt's heartbeat to speed up just a bit as he maneuvered himself over the edge of the truck and down the ground.

Just as the soles of his shoes came in contact with the soil, Puck said, "There you go, _Princess_."

As the name met his ears, Kurt's head snapped up, bringing him face to face with a still smirking Puck. "Don't call me that." Kurt's tone made it very clear that he meant what he was saying. He absolutely hated pet names just as much as he hated being called "dude." After all, he had a name, and he liked it. And he couldn't understand why other people couldn't just use it.

At Kurt's response, Puck's eyebrows drew together, making him look both exasperated and confused. "So… I can't call you Princess. And I can't call you dude." Around Kurt's waist, Puck's hands tightened a little more, almost protectively. "What _can_ I call you?"

Without thinking, Kurt slid his hands up a little farther so that they were resting almost on the back of Puck's neck. It felt comfortable and natural, and Kurt never wanted to let go. And as Puck stood, waiting for an answer, Kurt pursed his lips together as he tried to come up with an answer. He thought about pointing out the fact that they'd been doing just fine with Hummel. But then again… He only put up with that because it was better than the majority of the alternatives. He thought about telling Puck that he _did_ have a first name, but it just seemed so strange. And he could only imagine what it would be like to have Puck use his first name.

Because after all of the dudes and Hummels that had passed between them… the thought of Puck addressing him by his first name felt strangely intimate.

It wasn't that he minded Hummel, but it wasn't his given name. The one his parents had picked out for him instead of the one he'd inherited from his father. And as he thought about that, Kurt realized that he very much wanted to hear Puck saying his first name…

Taking a deep breath, Kurt looked up into Puck's eyes and tried to act nonchalant as he said, "How about _Kurt_?"

For a moment, Puck stared down at him, his brown eyes searching Kurt's face. As Kurt waited for Puck to say something, he felt a nervous ball begin to grow in the pit of his stomach. He quickly became worried and unsure of what to do next. And when Puck finally opened his mouth to speak, Kurt found that he was holding his breath. "Ok…" Puck's voice trailed off before he said Kurt's name. But as disappointed as he was about that, he didn't really care.

Puck's grip on his waist had changed from protective to possessive in a matter of seconds. And in response, Kurt slid his hands up a little further, the tips of his fingers scraping over the closely shaved skin at the base of Puck's skull. But this time, when they moved over the strip of hair that made up his mohawk, Kurt didn't pull away. Instead, he deliberately and purposely ran his fingertips over it.

The gentle caress caused Puck to lean forward slightly, causing their chests to press together softly. Now, Kurt's breaths were coming in short, painful bursts, and against him, he could feel Puck's own breathing. However, Puck's chest was rising and falling in a slow and steady rhythm that Kurt could hardly fathom.

As they stood there, just holding one another, Kurt could feel Puck's fingertips digging into his hips through the fabric of his pants. It was almost painful, but it didn't _hurt_. In fact, Kurt wanted more of it and of Puck. And he found that he was finally ready to give himself over to whatever that might mean. Feeling safe and protected, Kurt's eyelids fell shut.

Deprived of sight, he became lost in a word of pure intoxicating sensation.

Even though his eyes were closed, Kurt didn't need to see Puck to know that he'd leaned forward a little more. He could feel it in his chest, by how closely they were now pressed together. Swallowing, Kurt cursed himself as his heartbeat suddenly sped up, thudding painfully against his ribs. He knew Puck could feel it as well; there was absolutely no way he couldn't.

"_Kurt_." Puck whispered the name, _his_ name softly against Kurt's lips. Their mouths only brushed against one another once, on the K, but it caused a minor trembling to take over Kurt's body.

And as the subtle touch spread through his body, each waiting for the other to move, a single thought ran through Kurt's mind…

_This_ was what his first kiss should have been.

The _intensity_…

The _emotion_…

The _possibility_…

The _promise_…

It was just so…

_Perfect_.

Kurt leaned forward, tentatively pressing his lips against Puck's. The touch was soft and shy, almost non-existent. But Kurt could feel a small smile forming on Puck's mouth in response. And a second later, Puck matched Kurt's movement. But just as Kurt felt the gentle pressure against his lips, his cell phone chimed loudly, breaking through his haze.

It was loud and obnoxious, and it caused Kurt to jump slightly.

Puck, however, seemed totally unaffected by the intrusion, his grasp on Kurt's hips tightening a little more. And when he spoke, Puck's voice was low and thick. "We, umh…"

The phone rang again, loud and shrill, but this time, it didn't make Kurt jump. Instead, he found himself staring at Puck's full lips, wishing that they were still on his. "Right…" His own voice sounded weak, breathless.

"Home." Puck pressed his lips together for a second as the phone rang yet again. When the noise died away, he pressed another soft kiss to Kurt's mouth before pulling away. Kurt tried to hold on, to move with Puck, but Puck managed to pull away anyway. Blinking rapidly, he swallowed before parting his lips to speak. "We should get you…"

"Home." Unconsciously, Kurt bit down on his lower lip as the phone rang again. His lips felt tingly and warm, and he wanted to hold onto the feeling forever. But the phone was still ringing, and the sun was setting. "Should go…"

Before Kurt could say anything else, Puck's mouth had found his again. This time, however, the kiss was surer, less hesitant, and it took Kurt by surprise. But before he could respond, Puck had released him and was striding over to the driver's side of the truck.

And as the phone began to ring again, Kurt stood there staring out at the field feeling confused, dazed, and _warm_.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Kurt sat cross legged on his bed, his feet tucked snugly beneath him. His lap top was on the bedspread in front of him, the screen glowing in the dim lighting. He was _trying_ to read a recent Facebook post from Mercedes, but his mind simply refused to focus on anything other than Puck. Truth be told, that was _all_ Kurt had been able to think about since he'd gotten home.

It had taken all of the concentration he possessed not to burn dinner or let on to his dad that something had happened. Granted, he'd almost blown his cover a couple of times, but somehow, he'd managed to pull it off.

And now, homework done and alone in his bedroom, Kurt decided to allow his mind to wander freely. At first, he'd thought that finally letting himself think about the other boy would be a good thing, but now he wasn't so sure. His brain fluttered restlessly from the song Puck had sung to their kiss in the field and everything in between.

Unable to concentrate on his best friend's online ramblings, Kurt unconsciously clicked over to Google. And before he could stop himself, Kurt typed in "Weezer" and clicked "search." The results that popped up seemed to be so random and endless that he felt instantly overwhelmed. However, he did recognize a few things here and there, like _Raditude_ and _Pinkerton_, but those were mixed in with what seemed like a million other things.

But as he scanned the titles, there was one thing that seemed familiar; _Alone: The Home Recordings of Rivers Cuomo_. Convinced that that _had_ to be the same _Alone_ Puck had been talking about, Kurt clicked the link. As the page loaded, a black and white picture of a man holding a guitar at the top, Kurt's cell phone buzzed with a text message.

Sparing a quick glance for the black and white picture on the screen before him, Kurt picked up his phone. When the screen sprang to life, Kurt's heart gave a little thud when he saw that the text was from Puck. As he opened the message, Kurt bit down on his lower lip. What he saw on the screen caused his lips to tingle with memory of Puck's mouth whispering against his own.

It read, quite simply: "Call me Noah."

Staring at the text, Kurt let the smile he'd been trying to hold back take over his face.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- This fic won first place for "Best WIP" at the "glee_fic_awards" on LJ! Thank you so much!  
- The response and support that I've received for this fic has been amazing and I'm constantly blown away by all the love it's gotten. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I appreciate it so much.  
- Quack: I'm not exaggerating when I say that you're the best beta out there. I wouldn't want to work with anyone else. And honestly… I don't think I could. Thank you so much.  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	24. What Other Reason

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 24: What Other Reason**

Kurt sat in the parking lot of WMHS, his Navigator's engine still running. He knew that he should get inside, but he needed to take a few minutes to gather his thoughts and courage first. He hadn't talked to Puck since yesterday, so Kurt wasn't totally sure where they stood. So, rather than freeze as he collected himself, Kurt had left the motor running.

He'd been there for the past fifteen minutes, watching the other students (and a couple of late teachers) arriving for school.

Just a few minutes ago, Brittany and Santana, wearing colorful flannel pants under their Cheerios skirts, had dashed inside. Not long after, Rachel had followed, and Kurt had watched in mute sympathy as she'd jumped a little at the sight of Karofsky. He might not have been Rachel's number one fan, but he understood what it was like to be bullied.

A little while later, Kurt smiled as he noticed Tina pushing Artie up one of the school's new handicap ramps.

Watching as Artie reached up and tugged on one of Tina's braided pigtails, Kurt felt like he was intruding on a private moment. But he couldn't help but stare at them. He (and no one else for that matter) had ever really found out what had caused the temporary rift between the two of them. All anyone knew was that one day Tina had had a stutter, and the next she hadn't. And that, on top of that, Artie hadn't been able to look at her.

But now, everything seemed to be fine between them. When or how this had come about, Kurt didn't know. Part of him, however, couldn't help but think back to the night of his ill-fated party. Tina had been so concerned about Artie being carried down the stairs. And then, she'd stayed with him as everyone else had rushed off to the hospital. Whether or not anything had happened that night, Kurt would never know. When it came down to it though, he was just happy to see them together again.

As Tina approached the front door, Finn came out of nowhere to hold it open for her and Artie, causing Kurt to cringe. It was an involuntary reaction to the other boy, and Kurt could have smacked himself for it. He was _done_ with Finn. And as he watched Finn disappear inside the school after Tina, Kurt swore to himself that he wouldn't let Finn affect him like that ever again.

So, in an effort to put his resolution into effect, Kurt made a show out of turning away from Finn's retreating back. It was awkward, given the fact that he was still sitting, but it was enough to satisfy Kurt nonetheless. (Despite the fact that no one was there to see it.)

When Kurt turned back towards the school, the next person he caught sight of was Mercedes.

She was standing on the stoop of the school, searching the crowd of incoming students. Kurt knew that she was looking for him, but he didn't move.

Normally, they would meet outside and gossip all the way to their lockers and first period together. But Kurt knew that the moment he went near her, she'd assail him with a barrage of questions straight from her one-track mind. And that mind would be totally, completely, one hundred percent focused on Puck. Which, at that moment, Kurt just _could not_ deal with. Not so much because of Mercedes. Because Kurt found that he was staring to warm up to the idea of opening up about what was going on with Puck.

Rather, it was because Kurt was terrified of seeing Puck this morning.

As he sat in the parking lot, Kurt couldn't help thinking everything that had happened the day before seemed like a dream. A wonderful, incredible, impossible dream.

And now, Kurt wanted to catch sight of Puck, if only from afar.

Kurt knew it was ridiculous, he really did. But he felt like if he could just see Puck for a few seconds…. That would prove that the Free For All, their trip to the field, and their kiss had been real. It was stupid, so stupid, but Kurt was desperate for that simple reassurance.

Because after they'd both climbed back into Puck's truck the night before, they'd fallen silent. The heavy atmosphere had been so awkward and full of nervous excitement that it had kept Kurt on the edge of his seat all the way back to William McKinley.

Once they'd pulled up beside Kurt's vehicle, he had slid out of the passenger side of Puck's truck, unsure of what to do. Puck had gotten out of the truck as well, and he had seemed to be just as stumped about how to act as Kurt. And for a few minutes, they had stood between the truck and the Navigator, both uncomfortable and nervous.

In the end, they'd both settled for stilted goodbyes and promises of seeing one another the next day.

But nothing more.

Puck had followed Kurt home but hadn't stopped when Kurt had pulled into his driveway. Instead, Puck had honked his horn twice and kept on driving.

After going inside, Kurt had had to go about his normal routine _without_ letting on to his dad that something had happened. It had been difficult, but he'd managed. By the time Puck had texted him, Kurt had been home for hours. And though Kurt had wanted to reply to it, each response he'd come up with had seemed worse than the last. Because really, "Will do!" or "Ok, Noah," just wouldn't cut it. So rather than make a fool out of himself, Kurt simply hadn't responded.

And now, he was sitting in the school parking lot, praying to catch just a glimpse of Puck.

Realistically, Kurt knew that Puck was probably inside the school already. Because when Kurt had first pulled into the parking lot, he'd seen Puck's truck parked along with the rest of the jocks' cars. And last year, Kurt had found out that even the bullies, who liked to wait around and throw kids in the dumpsters, weren't willing to stand around in nasty weather. And given just how cold it was getting to be, Kurt was willing to bet that even the toughest football players were inside. In fact, it was getting to be so cold that Kurt could practically feel the promise of snow in the air.

Positive that Puck wasn't going to show up outside, Kurt was no long able to justify waiting outside. So, feeling nervous and unsure, Kurt turned off the ignition, rolling his eyes at how much gas he'd just wasted. (If his dad knew, he would _kill_ him.) And grabbing his bag off of the passenger seat, Kurt looked up at the front doors of the school to see if Mercedes was still waiting for him.

Thankfully, she wasn't.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Kurt made it all the way into school and to his locker without running into his best friend. The only explanation he could come up with was that she must have gone on to her first period class already since he hadn't seen her in the hallways.

And as he stood at his open locker, Kurt was overcome with a sickening feeling of guilt. He wanted to talk to her about what was going on with Puck; he really, _really_ did. But he didn't know where to begin or what all he should share with her.

He _certainly_ was not going to tell her the reason Puck had kissed him in the first place. Or about how Finn had used him against Puck. And there was no way he was going to tell her about his little drinking binge.

But after deciding what he _wasn't_ going to tell Mercedes, Kurt realized that there wasn't much left he _was_ willing to tell her.

As he realized that, Kurt sighed deeply. He couldn't keep hiding everything from his best friend. Well, he could. But if Kurt did that, he knew he'd be minus a best friend _very_ soon. And that was the last thing Kurt wanted to happen. Because when it came down to it, he didn't know what he'd do without her.

So, with a weary heart, Kurt headed off towards his first period class, trying to figure out what to tell Mercedes. He needed to tell her as much of the story as he possibly could while still keeping some of the nastier details to himself.

As he walked to his first period class, thoughts of Mercedes and what to tell her followed him. And as he took his seat, a few minutes early, Kurt realized that he'd left his Spanish text book in his locker. He figured he could share with whoever was sitting next to him. But when he saw Jacob Ben Israel sit down on one side of him and the scary girl who'd joined the boy's wrestling team on the other, Kurt changed his mind.

Throwing a quick glance at the clock, Kurt jumped up and all but ran back to his locker. Thankfully, the halls were almost empty, and it didn't take very long for him to get to get there.

Once he had his book, Kurt closed the metal door and headed back towards Mr. Schuester's room. But just as he was about to turn into it, Kurt caught sight of Puck walking out of a classroom a few doors down. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and from the hunched set of his shoulders, Kurt could tell he was upset about something. But even though Kurt could tell that something was wrong with Puck, he couldn't help but smile.

Seeing Puck, if only from far away…. It filled him with a sense of calm that he'd never felt before. Everything just felt, for lack of a better word, _right_. And watching Puck, Kurt let his lips form around the word he'd been longing to use since the night before. What came out, was a soft, breathy "_Noah_."

But just as Puck's first name slipped out of his mouth, Quinn came out of the classroom after Puck. She looked even more upset than him, her sweet face streaked with tears.

At the sight of her, Kurt's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"I'm sure there's an explanation, Kurt." Mercedes was looking at him with wide, worried eyes. "There _has_ to be."

"What other reason could there _possibly_ be, Mercedes?" Kurt crossed his arms over his chest and began to pace back and forth in the empty choir room. It was lunch time, and Kurt was starving, but after seeing Puck and Quinn together…

"I don't know! Maybe…" Mercedes trailed off as she tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for what Kurt had seen. "Maybe they just needed to talk about some things for…" Her normally strong voice shook a little. "For closure."

Truth be told, Kurt hadn't thought about that. He'd just…. Everything seemed so fragile in his life right now. And to see Puck and Quinn together? Well, it had felt like everything around him was shattering once again. And Kurt didn't know if he could handle that alone this time.

He needed something in his life to be strong, stable.

He needed someone to bear the weight of what was happening with him.

Of course, Kurt knew that his dad would be there for him not matter what. But he needed something else.

_Someone_ else…

Kurt stopped pacing to stare to at his best friend. All of a sudden, he felt _exhausted_, like he hadn't truly slept in weeks. He couldn't help but think that it was a miracle that he hadn't collapsed by now. And while he struggled to find his voice, Mercedes waited for him to do or saying something, for which he couldn't have been happier. Because if she were to push, even a little, Kurt knew he'd lose his courage. Letting his hands fall to his sides, Kurt looked at the girl with desperation in his eyes. "We kissed, Mercedes."

She didn't say a word. She didn't even blink. Instead, Mercedes just sat there, he mouth hanging open slightly in surprise.

Taking her silence as a cue to continue, Kurt swallowed the lump of fear that had begun to form in his throat. "Twice, actually. But the first time…" Kurt couldn't finish the sentence. It was too embarrassing, too heartbreaking.

Mercedes was still staring at him as if transfixed, and there was a dawning look of comprehension on her face.

"And we've…" Kurt took a deep breath in an effort to steady his nerves. "We've been spending some time together since…" He'd almost said, "Quinn's miscarriage," but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. "Since my party."

Across from him, Mercedes seemed to be recovering from her shock or surprise or whatever she was feeling. Now she was taking slow, deep breaths, and Kurt could tell that there was something she wanted to say. But Kurt _couldn't_ let her speak before he finished. Because if he stopped talking now, Kurt knew he wouldn't start again.

So before she could get out whatever was on the tip of her tongue, Kurt spoke again. "It hasn't been easy. _Trust me._" He shook his head and looked up towards the ceiling as the back of his eyes began to burn, "It _really_ hasn't been easy. But -"

"Do you love him?" Mercedes' voice was hardly above a whisper, but Kurt heard her loud and clear.

"I… I don't know." And he really, really didn't. Based on how he'd felt about Finn, no. His love for Finn was calm and restrained, almost comforting and safe. But when it came to Puck, Kurt's feelings seemed to burn uncontrollably. In the best and worst possible way. But was _that_ love? Kurt didn't know. "I know I like him… a lot."

Across from him, Mercedes face was beginning to change. And it was almost as if a light bulb had been turned on inside her, making her look brighter than she had in days. With the weight of what they were discussing resting heavily on him, Kurt could hardly believe the smile on his best friend's face and before he could stop himself, Kurt said, "What?"

Mercedes didn't respond, didn't say a word. Instead, she threw herself forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Kurt's neck.

For a second, Kurt stood frozen in shock. But that was only for a second. And after his shock melted away, Kurt flung his arms around his best friend's waist, holding onto her as if his life depended upon it.

Which, at that moment, it kind of did.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Kurt slid his key into the lock on the driver's side of the Navigator and gave it a turn. In some ways, he felt better than he had in weeks. Mercedes and he had _finally_ mended fences, promising never to hide important things from one another again. She'd also promised to keep anything Puck related a secret. (Kurt had gone so far as to threaten serious harm to her wardrobe if she so much as breathed a word to anyone about what was going on between them.)

But there was still a part of him that was worried about what he'd seen in the hallway that morning. Kurt understood what Mercedes had said about Puck and Quinn probably having things they needed to talk through, but he just couldn't help it. Seeing them together, after overhearing Quinn and Brittany's conversation, worried him.

And to make matters worse, he hadn't seen Puck since that morning. Puck hadn't even shown up for the couple of classes they shared. Whether or not this was out of the ordinary, Kurt wasn't sure. He'd never cared enough to notice before. But now… he couldn't help imagine Puck off somewhere, locked away in a supply closet with Quinn doing who knew what.

It was enough to drive him crazy. And just like that morning, Kurt found himself wishing for just a quick glimpse of Puck for some sort of reassurance…

"Hey." Lost in his thoughts, Kurt jumped a little at the sound of the voice behind him. And if it hadn't been for the fact that his keys were safely stuck in the car door, they would have fallen to the ground.

But before considering who might be standing behind him, Kurt spun around. When he found Puck standing there with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face, Kurt sighed in relief. "Noah." The name came out as naturally as if he'd been using it his whole life.

"Kurt." Puck's smirk turned into a small smile, and for a second, they just stood there, taking one another in. "So… Uh. I was wondering, are you busy this weekend? Cause there's still a ton of _Dexter_ you haven't seen."

As Puck stood there waiting for a reply, Kurt felt all of his fear and anxiety slip away. Quinn and the history she and Puck shared no longer mattered. Even the scene between them that Kurt had witnessed in the hallway that morning was no longer important. _All_ Kurt cared about was Puck and himself. And staring at Puck's expectant face, Kurt couldn't believe he'd been worried in the first place.

"I…" Kurt's heartbeat sped up as he thought about spending time with Puck over the weekend. The last time they'd watched _Dexter_ together, things had been _so_ tense, but it had still been nice. But now, Kurt felt like they were finally coming together, and he was excited to see what that meant. It would, after all, be his, and _their_, first date.

But just as Kurt was about to say, "Yes, I do believe that I have some free time," his dad's voice popped into his head. He had to work. _All_ weekend. And standing there, staring at Puck, the punishment he'd received for his drinking binge didn't seem so light after all.

So in an effort to put off the inevitable, Kurt sighed softly before answering. Just thinking about having a date had been so wonderful, and he didn't want that feeling to end so soon. Unfortunately though, he _had_ to give Puck as answer. "I can't." Kurt pressed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the look on Puck's face. When he opened them again, his heart clenched painfully at the look of disappointment crossing the other boy's features. "I have to work this weekend. I'm sorry."

Puck nodded once. "Nah, it's cool. I understand." He shrugged a little like it didn't matter, but Kurt knew better. There was a slight tension in the other boy's shoulders that hadn't been there a moment ago, and his eyebrows were drawn together. "Maybe some other -"

"What…" Kurt swallowed a little, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "What about tonight?" The palms of his hands began to sweat slightly despite the cool November air.

"Can't." Even though Puck had said he couldn't, Kurt noticed his shoulders relax a little. "My mom's throwing a candle party tonight. She wants me there to _help_." He dropped his head as if embarrassed by the prospect.

"Oh." Kurt had to press his lips together to keep from laughing. The thought of Puck passing around finger sandwiches as his mom sold scented candles was simply too much. "Ok."

"Yeah." Puck looked from side to side, as if searching for something to say. But when he found nothing, he took a step backwards as if to leave. "I guess I'll just call you -"

"Wait." Kurt held out his hand as if to keep Puck from leaving. Thankfully, Puck stopped moving. And as they stood there staring at one another awkwardly, Kurt desperately searched for something to say. "I…"

But try as he might, there was nothing, and he was just about to give up when Mr. Schuester drove by in his clunker of a car giving him an idea. "I work at my dad's tire shop. You _could_ bring your truck by tomorrow. It could use a tune up. No offense." Kurt's heart was racing painfully in his chest as he waited for Puck's response.

Puck seemed to consider the proposition for a moment before smiling. "Yeah, sounds good." Puck reached over and gently pushed on Kurt's shoulder. The touch was stilted, but there was a trace of affection in it as well, and it was clear that he wanted more. But there were too many people around for either of them to feel comfortable doing anything else.

But for now, it was enough.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- To everyone who is following this story, thank you so much for all of the support and love. I appreciate it more than I can say.  
- Quack: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	25. Hummel Tires and Lube

**Put Me Back Together  
****Hummel Tires and Lube**

"Why you so jumpy, kid?" The gravelly voice of Terry, one of the shop's mechanics, caused Kurt to start slightly. Terry was in his early-fifties and had a head of deep red hair flecked with gray that suited him perfectly. He'd been working at Hummel Tires and Lube for as long as Kurt could remember. _And_ for as long as Kurt could remember, Terry had gone out of his way to ignore him, only speaking to Kurt when absolutely necessary.

So for Terry to voluntarily speak to him, about something other than tires or donuts, was unnerving.

After all, Kurt knew he was a little jittery today, but he wasn't _that_ on edge.

Or… he didn't think so anyway.

And really, Kurt couldn't help but think that he had a right to be nervous. After all, Puck was supposed to be stopping by the shop today. Not just for a visit either. He was coming in to have his truck looked at. And while Kurt knew he was great with a monkey wrench, that fact just added a whole other layer of pressure to the whole thing.

So, was he a little wound up? Sure. But he wasn't tripping over his own feet or anything like that.

Nervously adjusting his coveralls, Kurt looked over the counter at Terry, who was stuffing a cheese Danish in his mouth. "I am _not_ jumpy." Just as the words left his mouth, the sound of a horn blast from the garage caused Kurt to drop the wrench that was in his hand.

As the tool landed on the floor with a resounding clank, Terry snorted. "Nope, you're not jumpy _at all_." The words were muffled by the pastry Terry was trying to swallow whole, but Kurt had understood him nonetheless.

But rather than spend any energy coming up with a witty retort (that Terry wouldn't have understood anyway), Kurt bent over and picked up the wrench he'd dropped. When he stood back up again, Terry was washing down the roll with a swig of the coffee that Kurt had made when he'd arrived that morning.

"Whatever, kid, just don't screw up anything today because you can't keep your tools in your hands." Terry grabbed another one of the donuts Kurt had picked up.

Kurt had the sudden desire to tell Terry that he owed him three dollars for the rolls he'd just snarfed down. But Kurt knew that if he did, it would get back to his dad before lunchtime, so he kept his mouth shut.

It wasn't that he thought his dad would be mad. Kurt just didn't want to deal with the drama Terry would surely cause.

So Kurt watched silently as Terry walked over to his station, coffee in one hand and a chocolate sprinkled long John in the other. As Terry sat his breakfast down in order to flip on the shop's radio (104.9, a classic rock station in Lima) before getting to work on the green bug waiting for him, Kurt walked over to the register.

So far, the Bug was the only car there, but it was only a little after ten, so that wasn't really surprising. There would be more vehicles later; the appointment book was practically full. But for now, Kurt had nothing to do. His station was clean, all of the tools in their proper place. The break area was even still in pretty good condition (surprisingly enough). So Kurt sat down next to the phone and pulled out his English textbook, trying to ignore the sound of Foreigner that was currently filling the shop. He had homework that needed to be done.

But try as he might, he just couldn't concentrate.

Images of Puck kept popping into his head, pulling his attention away from the essay on Shakespeare he was supposed to be reading. And even though Kurt kept trying to clear his mind, he just couldn't. It was absolutely hopeless.

So rather than read the same sentence over and over, Kurt shoved his textbook back into his bag with a heavy sigh. Thanks to his wandering mind, Kurt was going to be stuck doing his homework on Saturday night. And that just wasn't acceptable as far as Kurt was concerned.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt adjusted the collar of his coveralls before grabbing a rag from under the counter top. Just like the break area, the register was still relatively clean, but Kurt began wiping it down anyway. He made it all the way to re-stacking all of the auto-magazines on the counter top before the sound of an engine pulled his attention away from seeing his reflection in the countertop.

But the _second_ he heard the uneven rumble of an engine, Kurt's head snapped up. His heart was pounding in anticipation as he waited to see if Puck's blue truck would pull into the garage. It was still early in the morning, and logically, Kurt knew that Puck was probably still in bed, but he couldn't help but hope.

"_Please_…" Kurt whispered the word, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

When a new, green Ford, complete with extended cab, pulled into the garage, Kurt felt his stomach drop. Even though he'd known it wasn't Puck, seeing the evidence in front of him was still disappointing.

And in an effort to console himself, Kurt reminded himself that it was still early and that Puck had said he'd come by.

Unfortunately though, it didn't totally help, and Kurt was left with a niggling fear that Puck _wouldn't_ show up. So, resigned to a day of being jumpy and worried, Kurt placed the rag back under the counter and walked over to the green truck.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

One truck became two, and then three and before Kurt knew it, it was after one o'clock.

And Puck _still_ hadn't been by.

As the day passed, Kurt became more and more convinced that Puck wasn't going to show. On his lunch break, he'd checked his phone, hoping to find a text or a voice mail from the other boy, but there had been nothing.

Well… there had been a text from Mercedes. But it was just a bunch of gushing about how cute he and Puck looked together. Kurt had rolled his eyes even as he'd tried to hide a smile. He hadn't replied, but that was because Kurt didn't really know what to say. And after eating his lunch, Kurt got back to work on the tires he'd been rotating.

But just as he set to work on them, Kurt heard his dad's voice over the roar of an engine.

"Terry, take over the tire job Kurt is working on!" Why Burt would want Terry to take over his job was beyond Kurt, so he didn't bother to quit what he was doing. He was too wrapped up in self-pity and disappointment to care about tires or Terry.

But even though Kurt was focused on the rotating tires and the disappointment he was wallowing in, Kurt couldn't help overhearing Terry as he yelled back. "What? Why? He's almost finished. Why can't I just take the truck coming in?"

Confused, Kurt turned away from the car he was working on to look at his dad. Because as much as he disliked Terry, the man did have a point. Kurt was almost finished, so why pull him off the job now?

However, before Kurt could ask his dad what was going on, Burt was yelling back to Terry. "Cause I'm the boss, that's why." He didn't sound upset, but Kurt could tell that his dad meant what he was saying. He wanted Terry to take over Kurt's job, and Burt wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Dad?" Kurt stepped out from behind the car in his station. As he did, he pulled a rag out of his back pocket and began wiping the grease off of his hands. Looking down at the slick, black liquid under his nails, Kurt wrinkled his nose in disgust. "What's going -" When Kurt looked up from his hand, his mouth fell open in shock.

Puck's flaking blue truck was sitting the parking lot of Hummel Tires and Lube.

"I take it you two worked things out?" Burt walked over to stand next to Kurt.

"I…" When Kurt looked at his dad, he couldn't help but smile shyly.

Burt had his arms crossed over his chest, and he was looking down at Kurt, a knowing look in his eyes. He looked a little uncomfortable, but Kurt could tell that his dad was happy for him. And _that_ was what mattered the most.

Before Kurt could say anything something, his dad elbowed him a little. "Go." He didn't say anything else. Instead, Burt just smiled a little at his son.

Taking a deep breath, Kurt nodded at his dad once before walking out to Puck's truck. It took all of the self-control he possessed, but Kurt managed to keep from running across the garage. And as he walked, Kurt's heart began to pound so painfully he thought it was trying to escape from his chest.

When he finally made it to Puck's truck, Kurt was happy to see that the other boy had the window rolled down. His elbow was resting on the window frame, and he was smiling out at Kurt. "Hey."

Kurt stood next to the window, his hands on either side of Puck's elbow. And for the moment, his dirty nails were forgotten. "Hi." The relief Kurt felt at seeing Puck there had lightened his entire mood so much that he was practically bouncing on his feet. "Umh, you can pull your truck in there." He pointed at the station that Terry had been using.

"Cool." Puck turned the truck's ignition back on. And as the engine roared to life, Kurt heard the same strange clicking in the engine he'd heard before.

When the truck lurched forward, Kurt stepped aside, allowing Puck to drive in ahead of him. As he followed the truck into the garage, Kurt forced himself to take a few deep breaths in an effort to calm the nerves and excitement cascading through his body. He wanted to be calm and collected when he popped the hood of Puck's truck, not a jumpy, jittery mess that couldn't hold onto a wrench.

Before Kurt was inside, Puck was out of the truck and pushing open the hood. Or… He was trying to anyway, because even though the hood was going up, it looked like Puck was having a hard time with it.

"Here, let me." Kurt stood next to Puck and put out his hands as if waiting for the other boy to let him take over.

Puck, however, didn't move. "Nah, see…" He gave the hood one final shove, causing it to pop open the rest of the way. "It sticks. You gotta know how to handle it."

"I'm sure that I could have gotten it, Noah." Kurt smiled softly as he brushed at a small spot of grease on his sleeve.

"Wait…" Puck took a step back and fully took in Kurt's appearance for the first time since arriving. "You _work_ here, work here?" He sounded surprised, if a little doubtful. "I thought that you, like, answered phones and stuff."

Kurt couldn't help but smile in earnest. "I do that too."

"Huh. I'd never have guessed that you could fix cars. If I'd have known, I'd have made you my personal mechanic rather than throwing you in the dumpster." Puck's voice was light and joking, but Kurt's stomach dropped anyway, the smile slipping from his face. And as it did, Puck's expression darkened as if he'd just realized _what_ he'd said. "Kurt, man, I'm…"

"No, no… I…" Kurt pressed his lips together, trying to hold back the surge of sorrow he felt. He knew that Puck hadn't meant anything by the comment and that they had both moved beyond those days. But it still hurt. The memories of being tormented and tossed in the dumpster were still too fresh to be taken lightly. And Kurt knew that it would take a _lot_ for him to truly get over that.

"Kurt, please…" Puck reached out and placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "I didn't mean… I mean…" The sentence trailed off as if he couldn't find the right words for what needed to be said.

And really, Kurt couldn't blame him, because while an apology would be nice… it wouldn't, _couldn't_ wash away the pain he felt.

The only thing that could help _that_ was time.

Time that Kurt found himself hoping they had.

"It's ok. Or… it's not." Puck's hand tensed on Kurt's shoulder, and Kurt could feel the worry in it. "But it will be. Someday." Kurt forced himself to smile a little and hoped that he looked reassuring. "So… Let's see what's wrong with your truck."

Kurt leaned over the open hood of Puck's truck, happy to have a reason to hide his face for a moment. He needed a second to compose himself, to try and once again find the excitement he'd been feeling only moments before. He _knew_ Puck hadn't meant anything by the comment, but the way it made him _feel_ was another thing altogether.

"Well?" Puck's voice sounded closer than it had before Kurt had bent over the truck, and he couldn't stop himself from looking up.

"I haven't had…" Kurt's voice trailed off as he came face to face with Puck.

In the short time Kurt had been looking under the car's hood, Puck had leaned on the side of the truck. And even though he was technically on the side of the vehicle, when he'd leaned over, that brought their faces _very_ close together.

So close that Kurt could feel Puck's breath on his face.

And before Kurt could stop himself, he smiled a little and said, "Hi."

The second the word slipped out of his mouth, Kurt felt the tips of his ears begin to burn. Because, of _all_ the things he could have said at that moment, "hi" was quite possibly the lamest. And more than anything, he wished he could take it back.

Puck, however, just smiled. It was soft and sweet and caused the skin around his eyes to crease slightly. "Well hey yourself." As he was speaking, Puck leaned forward a little more, and Kurt felt himself do the same.

But before their lips touched, Kurt heard a loud clanking and a sarcastic yell. "Hey, _Kurt_, you still jumpy over there?" Terry's voice was knowing, and Kurt could have killed him.

Sighing in irritation, Kurt peeked his head out from under the truck's hood to see Terry smirking at him. "No, Terry, I'm not. In fact, I'm _marvelous_. Thank you for asking."

Terry stared at him for a minute, the smirk still on his face. But when it became obvious that Kurt _wasn't_ going to back down, Terry turned and walked to the back of the shop. But even though _he'd_ been the one to back down, Kurt could hear him laughing.

And with a roll of the eyes that Terry would never know about, Kurt ducked back under the truck. "I really can't stand that man." Even though Terry was no longer within earshot, Kurt found himself whispering to Puck.

Puck, still in the same spot as before, snorted a little. "He always like that?" He sounded genuinely interested.

"Sadly, yes." Kurt was back under the hood of the truck. He wasn't _as_ close to Puck as before, but they were still close. "I'll never really und -"

Before Kurt could finish his sentence, Puck leaned forward a little more and pressed his lips against Kurt's for a second before pulling away. Puck's mouth had been sure and warm against his, and it left Kurt wanting more.

"We ok?" Puck searched Kurt's face as he waited for an answer.

"Yes, we're ok." Kurt smiled, and this time it wasn't forced.

For a moment, they just stood there together. Kurt wanted to lean forward and capture Puck's mouth in a kiss of his own, but there was no telling when Terry, or even his dad, might walk into the shop. And as much as Kurt wanted to kiss Puck again, he wasn't ready for any public displays of affection just yet.

"So…" Kurt chuckled a little, unsure of what to say. "I guess I should…" He pointed weakly at the truck's engine before ducking back under the hood. As he did, Kurt reached for the oil tank, figuring that that was the most likely cause of a clunking noise in the engine.

"How'd you learn all this stuff?" From the nearness of Puck's voice, Kurt could tell that he was still leaning over the truck.

"My dad taught me." Kurt pulled the long rod that measured the truck's oil out of the oil tank.

"Are you two close?" Puck sounded curious, but Kurt could also sense a trace of sadness in his voice.

Before Kurt answered, he pulled the rag out of his back pocket. And running it along the rod, Kurt considered his answer. "We… we never used to be. But we're getting closer."

Puck didn't say anything for a minute. And Kurt knew that it was because he understood what it was like to not have a relationship with his dad. "What changed?"

The question hung in the air between them, the truck and its clunking engine long forgotten. The fact that Kurt was gay was common knowledge amongst the glee club and the rest of the school. But to say it out loud, to verbally say to someone, "I'm gay," was another thing altogether. Telling Mercedes and his dad had been difficult, but Kurt didn't want to hide. Even if Puck already knew. "I came out to him."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Kurt dropped his head to the rag in his hands. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to see Puck's face at that moment.

"Was he cool about it?" Puck sounded curious, and it caused Kurt to lift his head a bit.

"Umh… Yeah." Kurt thought back to the night he'd told his dad he was gay and just how accepting he'd been. "I mean… he still has a hard time with it, but he's trying." Kurt smiled slightly and lifted his head the rest of the way. When he did, he was surprised to see Burt walking towards them over Puck's shoulder. "And that's really more than I could have hoped for."

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- This chapter is dedicated (with much love) to Firithnovwen who did a gorgeous drawing for chapter 23. Thank you SO much! :) (You can check it out on her Deviant Art account. It's called "Perfect.")  
- Early chapter is early. I'm not switching to Wednesdays but I have a wake and funeral to attend this week. I wanted to error on the side of caution and get this posted just in case.  
- Thank you to everyone who has read or reviewed. And thank you for being so patient these past couple of weeks. It's been a very difficult time.  
- Quack: You are amazing. Thank you.  
- Reviews are love.


	26. Nice To Meet You

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 26: Nice To Meet You**

"You're lucky." Puck sounded sincere, and Kurt couldn't help but feel just a little bit guilty. Not about having a great dad, but about having a dad who cared enough to try. Because he understood what the other side of that coin was like. But even though Kurt understood what it was like to have a strained relationship with his father, he didn't know what it was like to not have him around at all.

"I know." And he really did. Because thinking back over the past few months, Kurt realized just how much closer he and his dad had become. But it wasn't just that; it was how much they'd come to rely on one another as well. There'd been so many times over the past few months where Kurt had leaned on his dad in ways he'd never thought possible. And as Burt came to stand with them, Kurt smiled at him softly.

"Hey, guys. How's it going over here?" Burt looked from Kurt to Puck. But when he caught sight of their somber expressions, he turned back to Kurt, a silent question in his eyes. In response, Kurt gave a miniscule shake of his head. Thankfully, Burt caught on and didn't ask what was wrong. "Checking out the oil tank?" Burt gestured at the dirty rag and rod in Kurt's hands.

Kurt looked down at the cloth he was still holding. It was covered in filthy, gloppy oil from the oil gauge. "Yeah. The tank is dirty. A quick oil change and the engine will be purring like a kitten wrapped in cashmere in no time."

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Puck and Burt looked at Kurt as if he was crazy. And if he was being honest with himself, Kurt couldn't blame them. Kittens and cashmere didn't really combine for the wittiest of comments. But Kurt couldn't find it in himself to care about his less than stellar wit at that moment. He'd been trying to lighten the mood, and from the looks on his dad and Puck's faces, he'd done just that.

They both looked slightly confused, but the mood was definitely lighter, and all of a sudden, Kurt was struck by an idea. He wanted to introduce them. He knew that they'd met before. But he felt the sudden desire to introduce them _properly_.

It was stupid and kind of pointless, but Kurt couldn't help it. He _needed_ to do it.

"Umh, Dad…" Kurt sounded hesitant all of a sudden, and he cursed himself for it.

In an effort to steady his nerves, Kurt wiped at the oil he'd gotten on his hands. "I'd like to… I mean…" Puck looked at him questioningly. "I'd like to introduce you to…" He wanted to say Noah, but for whatever reason, he chickened out at the last second. Deep down, Kurt knew that it was because things were still so new and shaky between them, but he felt like a coward nonetheless. "Puck."

Suddenly, Burt's attention turned to Puck. Next to Kurt, Puck seemed to shift around on his feet a little, as if uncomfortable. And Puck's sudden unease caused the tips of Kurt's ears to burn, but he couldn't back down now. "I know you two already know -"

"No, it's ok." Burt interrupted Kurt as he reached over to clap him on the shoulder. After he let go, he extended his hand to Puck.

For a moment, Puck stood there staring at Burt's outstretched hand in shock. To his credit, Burt just waited, unflinching, for Puck to return the gesture. For a moment though, Kurt didn't think he would. But before the worry could set it, Puck tentatively stuck out his own hand.

And all but sighing in relief, Kurt swallowed deeply as his father and Puck shook hands. Even though Kurt had seen them together before, it was still surreal to watch them shake hands. He couldn't help but watch them in amazement.

As Burt let go of Puck's hand, Kurt had to press his lips together to keep himself from smiling like a fool. And when Puck turned to smile at him, Kurt couldn't make out the expression on his face. It was a mixture of amusement and triumph that he wanted to examine more. But before he could, his attention was caught by Burt giving Puck an appraising look. It was almost like Burt was seeing Puck in a different light. Because even though Puck had made a positive impression on Burt, Kurt knew he wasn't about to turn a blind eye on the boy.

Instantly Kurt was glad that his dad didn't have a shotgun at home.

"So, Puck…" Burt's tone was light and conversational, but it still put Kurt slightly on edge. From the look on Puck's face, he wasn't completely calm either. "You got a real name, son?" Burt smiled a little reassuringly.

"Oh, umh…" Puck stuttered, and Kurt could tell he was taken aback by the question. "Yeah, I mean… Yes. It's, it's Noah… sir."

As Kurt watched Puck, all of the confident swagger and bravado disappeared from Puck's face. At the moment he looked more like a sixteen-year-old boy than Kurt had even seen him look before; Puck always seemed so much older, so much more self-assured than the rest of the glee club that Kurt could hardly believe it was the same person. As he looked at the other boy, Kurt found himself wanting to reach over and take Puck's hand in an effort to reassure him. But Kurt didn't know how Puck (or his dad) would react.

So, he didn't.

Instead, Kurt just stood there, watching Puck and wishing he could offer some sort of comfort.

"Ok, Noah." If Burt was nervous or uncomfortable in any way, Kurt couldn't tell. Burt looked completely in control and as if he knew what he was doing. "How about you come on over for dinner tonight?" Kurt's eyes widened in shock, and he only just managed to keep his mouth from falling open. "Kurt's a great cook."

Kurt felt the tips of his ears begin to burn as Puck and Burt looked over at him expectantly. He wanted to object, to protest, because when it came down to it… he and Puck hadn't even gone on an official I'm-going-to-pick-you-up-at-seven-with-roses-in-hand type of date. (Not that he _wanted_ roses but still.) So far, they'd watched TV together and hung out in a cornfield. That was _it_. And even though Kurt loved his dad, he didn't want him to be there for his first sit-down-at-a-table meal with Puck.

It just _wasn't_ fair.

"You can cook?" Puck's voice cut through Kurt's inner turmoil. He looked surprised and a little impressed.

"I…" Kurt's grip tightened on the long forgotten rod he was holding in his hands. He _really_ wasn't comfortable with the idea of a cozy dinner for three yet. But from the look on Puck's face, he could tell that there was no way around it. "Yes. Some, anyway."

"Alright then." Burt was smiling at the both of them, but Kurt could see the slightest trace of worry and unease in his eyes. The sight made Kurt realize that, as uncomfortable as _he_ was with the idea of having Puck over for dinner, his dad was just as anxious. (Even if it was for completely different reasons.) "Seven o'clock. Our house."

"I'll be there." Puck smiled and nodded a little, a touch of mischief in his eyes. The look thrilled Kurt as much as it worried him, and try as Kurt might, he simply _could not_ tell what the other boy was thinking.

"All right then." Burt looked over at Kurt, his eyes full of business. "When you finish up here, there's a Honda out front that needs the windshield wipers fixed. Make sure that Terry doesn't try and take the job from you."

"Oh, right." For the past few minutes, Kurt had forgotten that he was supposed to be working. And now that he remembered, he felt self-conscious about his Craftsmen overalls and dirty nails. But there was no way he could hide his hands or jazz up his plain ensemble. "I'll take care of it."

Burt nodded and started to walk away. But before taking five steps, he turned back towards them. "Also, this job -" He pointed at Puck's beat up truck. "Is on the house." Burt didn't wait to respond. Instead, he turned back around and walked away.

"Your dad is awesome." The sincerity of Puck's tone cut straight to Kurt's heart. Burt hated giving discounts. Even to Uncle Mike. (But really, Uncle Mike needed his broken down Buick repaired so often that Hummel Tires and Lube would have lost a _lot_ of money by giving him discounts.) So Kurt understood just how strong a gesture it was for him to let Kurt repair Puck's truck on the house.

When Kurt responded, his voice was low and filled with emotion. "I know." He didn't say anything else, but then again, he didn't need to. Instead, he turned back to the truck and its dirty oil tank.

Puck moved to stand next to him, so close that their hips bumped together softly. The subtle contact caused Kurt's breath to hitch a little as Puck said, "So, dinner tonight…"

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Help me. Help me. Help me. _Help me_…" Kurt was frantic as he breathed into the receiver of his cell phone.

"Kurt, what's going on? What is it?" With each word, Mercedes' voice got a little louder and a little more worried. "Tell me!" Her voice had gone up a few octaves and was hurting his ear.

Kurt took a deep breath as he tried to calm himself. He knew that his best friend was probably pulling her hair out in anticipation, but he couldn't help that. He needed to calm down, because people were staring to stare at him.

And not in a good way either.

The second he was calm enough, Kurt said, "My dad -"

"Your dad!" Mercedes sounded terrified and a touch hysterical. "Is your dad ok?"

"Yes, he's fine!" Kurt had to raise his own voice a little so that he could get Mercedes' attention. The raise in volume caused the woman next to Kurt to shoot him a dirty look as her sleeping toddler stirred. Normally, Kurt would have returned her glare with a dash of disdain, but right now, he was too freaked out to care. "But he invited Puck over for dinner _tonight_, and I need help."

Kurt bounced nervously on the balls of his feet as he waited for an answer. However, instead of hearing some perfect solution come from his best friend, Kurt was met with complete silence at the other end of the line. And when it became obvious that Mercedes _wasn't_ about to say anything, Kurt huffed. "_Mercedes_?"

"Let me get this straight…" Mercedes spoke slowly, and Kurt could tell that she was beyond miffed. "You are _fine_. Your dad is _fine_. Everyone is _fine_."

"Yes." Irritation was quickly beginning to bubble in the pit of Kurt's stomach. His dad had refused to let him off work early to go grocery shopping so he hadn't been able to leave until five. It was now five seventeen, and Kurt was running out of time. He needed help, and he needed it _now_. "But I need -"

"So, even though everyone is fine…" Mercedes was mad, and she wasn't about to let him get a word in edgewise. "You decide it's ok to call and give me a heart attack because of _dinner plans_?"

"I…" When put like that, Kurt couldn't help but feel a little guilty. "I'm sorry. I just _really_ need some help here."

"Oh… Fine." She didn't sound completely mollified, but Mercedes didn't sound as angry as before. And at that moment, that was good enough for Kurt. "What's the problem?"

"I'm running out of time, and I don't know what to serve." It was ridiculous but true. In between working on trucks and cars, Kurt had tried to come up with a suitable menu. But _nothing_ had seemed right.

It was either too casual (BBQ sandwiches) or too pretentious (lobster bisque). And now he was wandering through the produce section of Wal-Mart, wondering just was he was going to do. Normally, he wouldn't have set one foot in the store. But given his lack of time and the fact that he passed Wal-Mart on the way home, he'd swallowed his pride and pulled into the parking lot.

"Where are you?" In the background, Kurt could hear the rustle of Mercedes' car keys. "I'll come help."

"I'm at Wal-Mart and don't bother." Kurt sounded harsher than he meant to, and he felt terrible about it. "I'm sorry. There's just… no time."

"Ok." Through the phone, Kurt could hear an engine starting, but he didn't comment. "Well, how about burgers? Puck seems like a burger and fries kind of guy."

Kurt had considered making burgers but threw the idea out almost instantly for being uncouth. "I am _not_ serving burgers the first time Pu…" Kurt's voice trailed off. He'd been too afraid to use Puck's first name earlier, and he wasn't going to let that happen again. At least, not in private anyway. School was another matter altogether. "_Noah_ comes over for dinner."

"Noah?" The word came through the phone's receiver full of shock that was accented with a touch of amusement.

"Yes, _Noah_." Kurt pressed his lips together in an effort to hold back the smile tugging at his face. "Oh…" Kurt had wandered out of the produce section and was surprised to find himself in the middle of the pasta aisle. It was then that he decided what to make for dinner. Even if it might take a little longer than he had time for.

"Oh? What oh?" Mercedes sounded like she wanted to say more on the subject of "Noah," but she didn't.

"I'll make pasta. I have this wonderful recipe…" Kurt pushed his cart along the aisle, past the Barilla brand pastas and the Wal-Mart brand Great Value choices. Once he got to the small selection of organic and specialty choices, Kurt stopped. Grabbing a package of whole wheat angel hair pasta, Kurt headed back towards the produce section.

"Well… I still think you should make hamburgers." Mercedes waited for a minute, but Kurt didn't respond. He was _not_ going to make burgers. "But if you _insist_ on making spaghetti, make sure you go light on the garlic. And don't get garlic bread at all."

"Why shouldn't…" Kurt paused, a plump red tomato in hand as he thought about what Mercedes was saying. "Oh." He felt his cheeks turn red as he dropped the tomato into a clear plastic bag. "Right."

On the other end of the line, Mercedes just laughed as her car's engine roared to life.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Just keep chopping, Kurt." Mercedes placed a calming hand on Kurt's shoulder as he continued to slice through a pile of baby portabella mushrooms. "I'll get the table set." Kurt kept chopping as he nodded at his best friend.

When he'd pulled up in front of his house, Kurt about cried at the sight of Mercedes' car. His dad had let her inside while he'd still been at the store, and she'd done her best to help prepare things. When he'd walked into the kitchen, the cutting board had been on the counter, and there had been a pot of boiling on the stovetop. And as she'd began pulling the grocery bags out of his arms, Kurt could not have loved her more.

As soon as she'd walked into the dining room, Kurt had pulled his mother's cookbook out of the "junk" drawer. The book was nothing more than a spiral bound notebook, but it was filled with recipes. Some were magazine clippings that had been taped to the pages while others were completely handwritten. Kurt had taught himself how to cook from it and had most of the recipes memorized, but he _always_ pulled it out while cooking. If only so he could see his mom's neat scrawl on the yellowing pages.

His plan for the night was a light marinara sauce that, according to his father, had been a favorite of his mom's. And though Burt had assured Kurt that he'd had it many times when he had been little, Kurt couldn't remember how it had tasted. He wished he could, but those memories had faded long ago.

Setting the sliced mushrooms aside, Kurt grabbed an onion and began chopping. The base of the sauce was already simmering, and next to it was a pot of hot water, ready for the pasta noodles. He was so close, but he still had so much to do. And as the pile of chopped onion began to grow, Kurt felt his eyes begin to sting and tear up, but he didn't stop chopping.

"Kurt! What's wrong?" Mercedes had come back into the kitchen and looked horrified at the sight of Kurt's face.

"Nothing…" He paused in his chopping and pressed his forearm to his eyes for a moment. "Just…" Kurt sniffled a bit. "Onions."

"Oh. I thought…" She eyed the notebook in the counter before looking back at him. "Never mind. What's next?"

Kurt was beyond relieved that she hadn't mentioned the cookbook. He didn't have the time, or the energy, to try and tell her about it right then. "Silverware and glasses." Back to chopping, Kurt used his foot to point towards the drawer that held the cutlery. Mercedes went straight to it as Kurt carefully slid the onions and mushrooms into the sauce pot.

Together they worked in harmony, Kurt slicing and dicing as Mercedes got the dining room ready. And before he knew it, the kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of simmering vegetables and warming bread.

It was only then that Kurt realized that his dad hadn't set foot in the kitchen once, which was rare. He generally loved to nibble and taste while Kurt was cooking (much to his chagrin). But from what he'd overheard, Burt was in the other room, helping Mercedes with the table.

Kurt wanted to go out and see how it looked, but the pasta needed to be strained. And there was still a bunch of other stuff that needed to be taken care of.

He was holding the pot over the sink when Mercedes burst into the kitchen. "Kurt! You need to go get dressed! Puck's going to be here in fifteen minutes!"

Still holding the strainer, Kurt craned his neck to look at the clock. It was six forty-six. He didn't even have fifteen minutes left to get ready. He had fourteen. "No!"

"Here, let me take that…" Burt's strong hands closed over the warm handles right next to Kurt's. "Go."

Kurt let go and stepped away from the sink. For a moment, he stood there looking from his dad to his best friend. They were both watching him expectantly; Mercedes was smiling, and his dad looked strangely serious. He wanted to say something, but he didn't have the time or the words. So, before either of them said anything else, he took off towards the basement.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- To those of you that are still following this story (despite all of my craziness here lately), thank you. You support (for this fic and for me) means a lot. :)  
- Quack: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.  
- **Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	27. Comfort Food

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 27: Comfort Food**

By the time Kurt made his way back upstairs, it was thirteen after seven.

He'd tried to make it in time, but given the fact that he'd had to shave, shower, dress, and primp…

It just hadn't been possible.

To make matters worse, when he'd rushed into the living room, harried and out of breath, he was met by the sight of Puck and Burt talking. And even though they were both smiling, Kurt felt angry. It wasn't that Kurt had anything against them talking. In fact, he was tickled pink by the thought of them getting along. (He was pretty sure that he would die of embarrassment if his dad were to decide that he wanted to borrow Uncle Mike's shotgun in response to meeting Puck.)

No, Kurt was upset not only because _he_ was late, but because he'd wanted to open the door when Puck arrived. He'd wanted to see Puck standing there on his doorstep, and he'd wanted to say hello and just maybe… kiss him on the cheek or something like that. But because he'd been late, Kurt had missed out on all of that.

However, even though Kurt was disappointed over not getting the chance to greet Puck, he couldn't let that set the tone for the evening. Because if he did, Kurt knew the evening was sure to be a disaster (which was _not_ acceptable).

Walking into the room, he ran his hands over the soft knit of the sapphire blue sweater he'd chosen to wear. He'd bought it online a few weeks ago, and it had just arrived the other day. (It would have come sooner, but given the price of the garment, he'd had to settle for the cheapest shipping option.) It had a v-neck that showed off the collar and top few buttons of the black shirt underneath it. And even though his wardrobe choices for the night were simple and understated, they were absolutely perfect.

Proud of his ensemble, Kurt slid his hands over the material again. Underneath his palms, the sweater was soft and fuzzy, and the feel of it soothed his nerves a bit. But before Kurt had a chance to mentally prepare himself for what was to come, Burt and Puck turned to look at him.

The moment Puck's deep brown eyes fell on him, Kurt froze in his spot, his hands still gripping the hem of his sweater.

For a second, he stood there, caught like a deer in headlights. Feeling trapped and unable to move, Kurt watched as Burt folded his arms over his chest. There was a small smile on his dad's face that Kurt could only interpret as pride.

But Puck…

Puck was another story altogether.

His eyes had widened a touch in surprise as he caught sight of Kurt. The flash of shock, however, quickly disappeared. But even though it was gone, Puck took his time scanning Kurt from head to toe.

The appraisal caused the back of Kurt's neck to burn white hot. But despite the fact that he was embarrassed by the attention, Kurt didn't feel self-conscious at all. In fact, he loved the feeling that Puck's look of approval filled him with.

"Hey there, son." Burt looked directly at Kurt. Whether or not Burt could sense that Puck was staring at Kurt, Kurt didn't know. But deep down, he really hoped that his dad couldn't see the look on Puck's face. It wasn't that it was vulgar or anything like that. It was just so… _private_. "Noah was just telling me that he's the running back on the football team with you."

"Oh." Honestly, Kurt couldn't have cared less what position Puck played on the football team. But his dad seemed to be impressed, so Kurt smiled and nodded as he walked over to stand next to them.

"Yeah." Burt dropped his hands and shoved them into his pockets. "He says that he scor-"

"What's that?" Kurt pointed at a brown square box that he'd just noticed in Puck's hands. He didn't mean to be rude, but he could _feel_ the conversation turning in a direction that was beginning to drain his excitement. Tonight was supposed to be about… well, Kurt didn't really know _what_ it was supposed to be about. But he _did_ know that it wasn't going to be about football (or any other sport for that matter).

"Oh… Uh…" Puck looked down at the box in his hands. When he looked back up, Kurt noticed a slight tinge of embarrassment on his face. "I brought pie." He shrugged a little. "My mom made me bring something. She gave me five bucks for dessert when I told her I was -"

"Well, that's real nice." Burt quickly cut through Puck's rambling, for which Kurt couldn't have been more thankful. And from the look on Puck's face, Kurt could tell that he was just as relieved at not having to say anything else.

"Here…" Kurt stepped forward and held out his hands. "Let me take that into the kitchen."

When Puck held out the pie, Kurt felt a tiny surge of daring fill him.

As he put his hands under the box, Kurt placed his fingers over Puck's, letting them linger. The touch was soft and gentle, nothing more than skin brushing against skin. But it still left him reeling and ever so slightly embarrassed.

And even though Kurt _really_ wanted to make eye contact with Puck as their hands touched, he just couldn't do it. So as he pulled the box out of Puck's grasp, Kurt dropped his eyes to the lettering on the lid. It read, "Carmel Apple Pie," and though it was from Wal-Mart (and definitely _not_ organic), the caramel-drizzled streusel topping looked delicious.

Under the box, Puck slid a couple of his fingers out from beneath Kurt's. At first, Kurt was worried that Puck didn't want to be touched by him. But before he could completely pull away, Puck wrapped his fingers over Kurt's. While they touched, Puck didn't try to stop him from pulling the pie away. Instead, he waited patiently as Kurt took the pastry from him.

As he did, Kurt kept his eyes on the swirls of caramel, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The embarrassment from a moment ago was gone, and Kurt raised his head ever so slightly. From under the curtain of his eye lashes, Kurt could see Puck smiling at him warmly. The look, so sweet that Kurt could barely believe it was Puck, encouraged him to lift his head the rest of the way.

But when he did, Kurt found his dad staring at him, a slightly confused expression on his face.

If Burt had caught onto what was going on beneath the box, Kurt couldn't tell. And he wasn't eager to find out. So before his dad could catch on, Kurt pulled the box the rest of the way towards himself. Across from him, Puck let his hands fall to his sides, but he didn't stop smiling. "Why don't…" Kurt pressed his lips together in an effort to suppress a smile. "Why don't you two go into the dining room while I take this…"

"Sounds good to me." Burt smiled at Kurt, as if he was trying to encourage him somehow. "Noah?"

"Uh, yeah." Puck tore his eyes away from Kurt to look over at Burt. If he was nervous, he was hiding it really well. But even if Puck was, Kurt didn't really mind. All he knew was that Puck was standing in his living room with him and his dad. It was such a surreal scene that Kurt was half-tempted to pinch himself.

Suddenly at a loss for something to say, Kurt held up the pie box as if showing it to them. "Well then…" The moment the words were out of his mouth, Kurt wished he could take them back. It wasn't that what he'd said was embarrassing; it was just that both his dad and Puck were staring at him as the words hung in the air. And rather than try to come up with something else, Kurt turned on his heel and all but ran into the kitchen.

The second he was safely out of the living room, Kurt placed the pie on the countertop. Just as soon as his hands were free, Kurt gripped the edge of surface, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths. Everything was going fine, but there was _so_ much potential for disaster that Kurt couldn't help but be nervous.

Pushing himself away from the countertop, Kurt smoothed out the soft fabric of his sweater once again. It wasn't that the material was rumpled or anything like that. Kurt was simply trying to calm himself again. Unfortunately though, it wasn't really helping this time. And as Kurt stood in the middle of the kitchen, feeling as if the world was spinning like a tilt-a-whirl around him, he realized something…

He probably wouldn't be able to calm down until Puck said goodnight.

He was going to be a nervous, fidgety, worried mess until Puck walked out the front door.

So, resigning himself to a night of nerves, Kurt spun towards the stove, looking for something to take back into the dining room. But, much to his surprise, there was nothing left.

Sure… The spaghetti pot was sitting in the sink and the chopping board was still dotted with drying tomato seeds. But all of the food, including the breadsticks he'd been warming in the oven, was gone.

Feeling confused, Kurt pushed his way through the kitchen door again and walked into the dining room. When he saw his dad and Puck seated at a perfectly set table (complete with fresh parmesan _and_ the dried Kraft kind), Kurt's eyes widened in surprise.

He owed his dad and Mercedes. Big time.

"What took you so long?" Burt was sitting with his elbows on the table, his hands clasped above one of the plates Mercedes had laid out earlier.

"I was looking for…" Kurt walked towards the round dining room table, taking note of how the chairs were placed. There wasn't a real "head" to the table, but if there was, Burt would have been sitting at it. To his right, there was an empty seat, and then to the right of that was Puck.

Burt looked over the table before looking back at Kurt. "I think everything's here."

Kurt couldn't help but notice that his dad hadn't mentioned just exactly _who_ had set the table. It was a fact that Kurt was extremely grateful for. It wasn't that he didn't want Puck to know he'd had help. He just didn't know how Puck would feel about Mercedes knowing about their little dinner date.

"I think you're right." Kurt pulled out the empty chair and took a seat. Puck didn't jump up to help him, but then again, Kurt hadn't expected him to. But even though Puck hadn't budged from his chair, Kurt could _feel_ the other boy staring at him. The sensation caused Kurt to turn his head _just_ enough to catch sight of Puck out of the corner of his eyes. Through his lashes he could see Puck looking at him and smiling slightly. The sight caused the corners of his mouth to twitch, and thought he tried to fight it, Kurt smiled softly.

"So, who wants spaghetti?" Burt's voice sounded light, but Kurt could sense the slightest trace of strain in it. Oddly enough though, that didn't bother Kurt. Instead, it reaffirmed how hard his dad was trying. Kurt was so touched that he couldn't even bring himself to tell his dad that it was pasta and _not_ spaghetti.

Not saying anything, Kurt reached out and took the cream-colored dish out of his dad's hands. As he did, he noticed that there was already a heaping mound of pasta on his plate.

For some strange reason, the sight caused him to relax a bit. Hoping that the sense of calm lasted, Kurt turned to Puck and offered him the serving spoon. "Umh, here…" As Puck pulled the utensil out of the tendrils of noodles, Kurt felt his nerves return ten-fold.

While Puck continued to load his plate with ladle after ladle of the food Kurt had made, Kurt felt his hands begin to shake. What if he hadn't cooked the pasta long enough? Or what if he'd cooked it too long and it was all mushy? And that was to say nothing of the sauce…

"Kurt, you have outdone yourself." Burt sounded sincere, and Kurt couldn't help but turn to look at him. Puck was still digging in the pasta dish, but Kurt didn't care. He needed to see his father. "It's just like your mom used to make." Burt lifted a forkful of pasta to his mouth and inhaled deeply before putting it into his mouth.

Kurt wanted to say thank you, but his breath hitched painfully when he opened his mouth. Unable to speak, he nodded a little and forced out what he hoped was a smile. His dad had given him compliments on his cooking before, but _never_ had it touched Kurt so deeply.

"Umh, I'm done." Next to him, Puck sounded a little unsure, almost as if he felt out of place. The lack of confidence pulled Kurt's attention away from his dad so much that he couldn't help but look at Puck. When he did, Kurt was surprised to find Puck staring at him intently. But before he could say anything, Puck was pulling the (significantly lighter) dish out of his hands. "Here…"

Kurt smiled warmly at Puck as he held the pasta out to him, and taking hold of the ladle, he twisted it in the noodles. He was just about to scoop them onto his plate when he heard his dad say…

"No garlic bread?" Burt sounded a little disappointed.

"I, umh…" Kurt could feel his ears begin to burn red hot as he remembered Mercedes' warning. "They were… they were out." Next to him, Puck was pressing his lips together as if he was trying to hold back a laugh. For a moment, Kurt thought about kicking him underneath the table but changed his mind when he thought about the casserole dish Puck was holding.

"Nah, it's fine." Burt still sounded disappointed, but Kurt couldn't help it. He was _not_ about to have garlic breath around Noah Puckerman. "I'll just have to make do with what you got."

Kurt tried to think of something to say, but he came up with nothing more than a mumbled "sorry" as he ladled the pasta onto his plate. On his plate, the scoop of noodles looked so small (compared to what looked like four or five helpings on Puck and his dad's plates). So he took one more spoonful before telling Puck he could set the dish down.

For the next few minutes, they were all silent as they grabbed rolls or parmesan cheese. (When Puck took the shaker of Kraft cheese from Burt, rather than use the freshly shaved option, Kurt rolled his eyes.) Kurt was just about to raise his fork to his mouth when Puck spoke.

"Wow, that _is_ good." His voice was muffled, and there was a small dot of sauce on his chin. And from the surprised look on his face, Puck was shocked at what he tasted.

Kurt's first instinct was to make some snappy retort about Puck underestimating his cooking skills. But when Puck wiped at his face with a napkin and smiled at him, the desire died away. All that was left was a small, pleased, "Thank you."

"Kurt here won't admit it, but he can _cook_." The pride was evident in Burt's voice, and Kurt turned to look at him. "He makes the _best_ mushroom and swiss burgers you'll ever taste." Kurt smiled, remembering last year's Fourth of July cookout where he'd taken over the grill. At first, Uncle Mike hadn't been happy. But when he'd tasted the burgers, his uncle had begged him for the recipe (which Kurt _still_ refused to hand over).

"Wait…" Puck sounded shocked and slightly offended, which caused Kurt's head to whip around in surprise. "You can make awesome burgers, but you chose to make spaghetti instead?"

At his words, Kurt was tempted to stab his fork into the plate of pasta in front of him. But after a nice deep breath and a pitch-perfect dirty look, he managed not too. Because, to be fair, not _all_ of his irritation was aimed at Puck. Some of it was for Mercedes. Which, ok, he knew wasn't really fair to her.

But still.

It had to go somewhere, and Kurt wasn't about to feel bad for not making something that could be picked up for a dollar at a drive-through. And sure, his burgers were _way_ better than anything a fast food joint could come up with.

But that _wasn't_ the point.

The point was that Kurt was _not_ about to serve something so… _common_ the first time he had a boy over for dinner.

Rather than try to defend his decision, Kurt said, quite simply, "Yes, Noah. I did," before sticking his fork in his mouth. Through his irritation, Kurt couldn't help but notice that his dad was right. The pasta sauce had turned out _much_ better than the last time he'd made it.

As Kurt chewed, Puck stared at him as if he had something to say on the topic of burgers versus pasta. But before he could say anything, Burt burst out laughing. "Next time, I'll make sure he makes hamburgers."

The first thing that popped into Kurt's head was, "Next time?" Because, until then, he hadn't really thought about what was going to happen _after_ Puck left for the night. Really, up till that second, _everything_ seemed to ride on this dinner and how (or if) they got through it. And now that that _wasn't_ the case, Kurt found himself staring at Puck, desperate for an answer.

"Sounds good to me." Puck stuck another forkful of the pasta into his mouth as he cocked an eyebrow at Kurt.

Though he was still a little grumpy about the whole thing, Kurt couldn't help but smile a little. The reaction was part anticipation and part relief. But no matter what it was, it caused Puck to smile back at him softly. "Fine. Next time I'll make burgers."

"Good. Now that that's settled…" Burt was sprinkling some more of the parmesan cheese on his dinner as Kurt looked at him. "How's your mother, Noah?"

From behind him, Kurt could hear Puck stutter a little before he said, "Uh, good. She just threw a candle party on Friday."

Even though Puck was still speaking, Kurt continued to look at his dad. It was such an odd question. Polite? Maybe. But it was odd given the fact that, as far as Kurt knew, his dad didn't know Puck's mother. "Do you two know each other?"

"You could say that." Burt lifted another forkful of food to his mouth and chewed. By the time he swallowed, Kurt was practically dying of curiosity. And that was to say nothing of how Puck must have been feeling. "We dated a little in high school."

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- Thank you all for the continued support. I appreciate it more than I can say. :)  
- Quack: You amaze me. I'm so glad you're my beta.  
- P.S. Wal-Mart does sell Carmel Appel Pies (which happen to be amazing) for $3.98 now. Last winter they were $4.98. :P  
- Reviews are love.


	28. Now I'm JellO

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 28: Now I'm Jell-O**

The second that Burt said he'd dated Puck's mom, Kurt's mouth fell open in (extremely) unflattering shock.

He'd always thought…

He'd never…

It just…

It had never occurred to Kurt that his dad had dated women _other_ than his mom. Granted, he now realized what a ridiculous thought that was. But it still seemed so surreal.

And the fact that Burt had dated, of all people, _Puck's_ mom…

As Kurt thoughts went to Puck, he realized that he'd completely forgotten about him. Kurt had just been so shocked by the news that nothing else had mattered. But even though he was still totally confused, Kurt _had_ to see how Puck was taking the news.

Reluctant to look away from his dad, Kurt turned to face Puck. From the complete and utter shock on Puck's face, he hadn't known either.

His mouth was clamped tightly shut, and his wide eyes were trained on Burt. Kurt thought about asking Puck if he was ok, but he didn't. Instead, he turned back to his dad, hoping for some sort of explanation.

"We only went out a few times." Burt dug into the pasta on his plate again. As he twisted the utensil in the noodles, Kurt silently willed him to finish the story before putting the food into his mouth. He really didn't think that he could handle waiting for his dad to chew and swallow before he finished his story.

When Burt finally opened his mouth again, Kurt held his breath in anticipation. "Then she dumped me, because I wasn't Jewish." Relieved, Kurt let out a low breath as his dad snorted at the memory.

"She said that her conscience would no longer allow her to date a _gentile_." Based on the amusement in his dad's voice, Kurt could only just imagine how that breakup must have gone. "Or something like that anyway." When Burt finished speaking, he shoved the forkful of pasta into his mouth. He chewed for a few seconds before swallowing. "I'm guessing you don't feel the same way, Noah?"

Even though Kurt was still looking at his dad, he could feel Puck shift a little behind him. But whether or not it was because the question made him uncomfortable, Kurt couldn't tell. And despite the fact that Kurt knew Puck could care less about the religious affiliations of his conquests, he realized that he was curious to hear Puck's answer. "I, uh… No. I don't."

Burt nodded a little as he reached for his glass of Coke. "Good to know." There was a _very_ slight hint of menace in his dad's voice that caused the tips of Kurt's ears to burn slightly.

"So, umh…" Puck sounded a little uneasy. But when Kurt turned to look at him, he looked _much_ more relaxed than before. "When did you meet Kurt's mom?" The question came out of nowhere, and Kurt was shocked that he'd just heard it. After all, it seemed so… personal that Kurt could hardly believe that Puck had asked. But rather than object, he kept his mouth shut.

He'd heard the story a thousand times before. But as he sat there, mind reeling from everything that had happened that day, he realized that he couldn't remember a single detail. So he sat there feeling mute, confused, and overwhelmed.

"I met her in college." Burt smiled softly as he set his glass back down. "Katie and I were in the same English class together, but we never talked. Then she came to one of the football games I was playing in, and the rest is history." Burt's voice faded a little at the end, and Kurt smiled softly at him. For just a second, they stared at one another.

But the silence and the moment were broken when Puck's cell phone buzzed with a text message.

"Uh, sorry." Puck sounded sheepish, and Kurt couldn't help but turn and look at him. He was holding his phone under the table and looking at it with a dark expression. From the way his lips were pursed together and his eyebrows were furrowed, it was obvious that he didn't like what he'd just read. However, even though it bothered him, Kurt continued to watch Puck. Still looking less than pleased, he quickly punched in a message before turning the phone off and shoving it back in his pocket.

"Is everything alright?" Kurt had tried to stop himself from asking, but he couldn't help it. Puck had looked upset at whatever he'd read, and Kurt wanted to make sure he was ok.

"Yeah, it's cool." Puck smiled widely, but somehow, it didn't quite reach his eyes. But even though that worried Kurt, he didn't push. "So, where were we?" Puck looked from Kurt to Burt and then Kurt again, the fake smile still fixed on his face.

And even though Kurt was pretty sure his dad bought it, he didn't.

"We were talking about Kurt's mom…" The painful nostalgia was gone from Burt's voice, and now he sounded mischievous. "So, how'd you two meet?"

"Uh…" Puck's voice trailed off as he looked over at Kurt.

There was just no easy way to answer that question. After all, how could he possibly sugar coat the pee balloons and dumpster dives? And to be honest, Kurt didn't even want to try. So he stared at Puck, waiting for him to come up with some sort of suitable answer. "Well…"

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Make sure to grab the ice cream for the pie." Burt wiped his napkin over his mouth with an air of finality. Save for dessert, dinner was over, and he looked full and satisfied.

The past thirty minutes had passed by in relative ease. For the most part, the conversation had stayed moving, hopping from things like glee club to Puck's pool business. (Thankfully, Puck had left out the more lurid details of what his job entailed.) But even though everything had gone so well, Kurt still hadn't been able to shake his underlying nerves.

Deep down, Kurt knew he was anxious, because things with Puck were still so new. He also knew that he was on edge, because Puck and his dad were spending time together for the first time. But even though knew understood _why_ he was uptight, Kurt was so tired of the constant butterflies in his stomach. They weren't the sweet little butterflies that always made girls giggle and flush with excitement. No, the things flapping around in his stomach were more like giant moths. Giant moths that made his palms sweat and his stomach lurch painfully.

And Kurt was _beyond_ over that.

He just wanted to be able to relax and enjoy himself. But try as he might, Kurt didn't know how to calm himself down. However, since his dad had brought up dessert, Kurt figured that a couple of minutes alone in the kitchen couldn't hurt.

"I'm not sure if there's any left…" A few days ago, Kurt had binged in the middle of the night. He'd been half-asleep at the time, and now he couldn't remember if he'd eaten the rest or not. "I'll have to check." Standing up, Kurt gathered their dirty plates and utensils and headed into the kitchen.

Once in the other room, Kurt placed the dishes on the counter top and took a deep breath. It didn't really help, but he felt better for having even tried.

"Ok…" Kurt looked around the kitchen in frantic need of some direction. And for just a second, he forgot about why he'd come into the kitchen in the first place. "Why am I…" There were a couple of pots in the sink, and the oven was still on low; apparently his dad (or possibly Mercedes) had forgotten to turn it off.

And sitting next to him, on the counter, was the Caramel Apple Pie that Puck had brought over.

Feeling relieved (and slightly ridiculous), Kurt pulled out a baking sheet and placed the pie in the center of it. Pulling open the over door, Kurt slid the pie onto the top rack so that it could warm for a few minutes. It wouldn't take long, and the pie would taste so much better because of it.

As the pie baked, Kurt decided to load the dishwasher. It wasn't that he was worried about getting the dishes clean. But rather, Kurt was hoping that the simple task would help calm his nerves some.

Granted, he'd never really gotten any stress relief from filling the machine like he did with doing the laundry. But as he picked up a handful of dirty silverware, Kurt couldn't help but think that _anything_ was worth a shot.

So, with his hands full of dirty silverware, Kurt tried to find a way to pull open the dishwasher's door. It was difficult, and he almost dropped everything, but after hooking two fingers around the handle, he managed to get the door open. And bending over, he began to sort the forks, knives and spoons into their proper compartments.

He was just about done when he felt someone rubbing his lower back. The touch was so unexpected that Kurt jumped and dropped the two forks he was holding. They fell onto the open door with a clatter that seemed a hundred times worse than it actually was.

Heart pounding painfully in his chest, Kurt straightened up and came face to face with a smirking Puck. "You almost gave…" Kurt placed his hand on his chest, willing his heart to calm down. "You shouldn't…"

"Come 'ere…" Puck's voice was low, but the smirk was still firmly in place. When Kurt didn't move, Puck reached out and gently placed his hands on Kurt's waist and pulled him forward a little bit.

Around his hips, Puck's hands felt strong and sure, as if he was protecting Kurt in some way. And as Kurt stepped into Puck's embrace, he felt as if he was standing in the open cornfield once again. But this time, he was warm and cozy and surrounded by the delicious scent of baking apples and caramel.

"You need to chill out." Puck's voice was low and warm, almost as rich as the baking pie. But even though Puck was totally right and Kurt was _anything_ but calm, he felt the sudden urge to deny it.

But before he had a chance, he felt Puck's arms slipping around his back. At the touch, he instantly melted into Puck's warm body, everything he was going to say drifting away. Because, for the first time that day (or night), Kurt was totally and completely calm, as if his insides had turned to Jell-O.

Slowly, Kurt slid his arms up, over Puck's shoulders, reveling in the feeling of contentment it gave him. It was such a simple act, but Kurt couldn't get over how amazing it felt. However, when Kurt's hands reached Puck's neck, he was disappointed that there was nowhere else to go. But as he ran his fingertips over the base of Puck's skull, eliciting a small smile from the other boy, the disappointment faded.

The next thing Kurt new, Puck's lips had found his, and he was instantly glad that he'd taken Mercedes' advice about the garlic.

All too quickly, Puck pulled away, and Kurt made a little noise of protest in the back of his throat. The sound, angry and almost defiant, caused Puck to chuckle in his ear. His breath came out warm on Kurt's cheek. "I've wanted to do that all night…"

Kurt wanted to say, parted his lips to say, "Then why did you stop?" But as his mouth formed the W of why, Puck pressed his lips into his temple.

Puck let the kiss linger as he tightened his arms around Kurt's back a little more. For a second, Kurt was rendered completely speechless. All that escaped from his was a deeply contented sigh.

After a moment, Puck pulled away, and Kurt waited to see what he would do next. But rather than continue to explore the contours of Kurt's face, Puck spoke. "Much better." Kurt felt his face split into a gentle smile.

He knew _exactly_ how Puck felt.

Sighing once again, Kurt mumbled what he hoped sounded like, "mmmhmmm…" But to be honest, he was so relaxed, so totally comfortable, that he had no clue what came out of him. All he knew was that he wanted to feel Puck's lips on his skin again.

And he was going to make that happen.

Tilting his head to the side ever so slightly, Kurt leaned forward a tiny bit. But _right_ before he had a chance to kiss Puck, Puck spoke. "Your dad totally just threatened me out there."

Puck's proclamation was so completely random that Kurt froze before he moved forward any more. However, the second Puck's words totally hit him, Kurt jerked back in shock.

Puck, however, didn't let go, and Kurt wasn't able to move very far. "He what?" Kurt craned his neck back in an effort to clearly see Puck's face.

What he saw was a mixture of mischief and amusement. "Don't worry, I got this. I've been threatened by a _lot_ of dads before." Puck laughed a little as Kurt felt his eyes widen in shock. He knew about Puck's reputation of course. But hearing it like that put things into a whole new perspective. It was just so…

How many fathers _had_ entrusted their daughters to Puck's care?

And how many now regretted it?

But before Kurt had a chance to give it any more thought, Puck shocked him again. "You know… I think he kind of enjoyed it." Puck laughed a little, looking completely unfazed.

Kurt, however, had absolutely _no_ clue how to react.

"I… Umh…" Kurt opened and closed his mouth once, searching for something to say. "I…"

"I told you, it's cool." Puck winked at him once, and it was _so_ ridiculous that Kurt couldn't help but laugh. Because there was _no way_ he could take Puck seriously after _that_.

Kurt was just about to call the other boy on it when Puck kissed him again. But before he could reciprocate, there was a very loud and obvious knock on the kitchen door. "Hey, guys…" Burt's voice trailed off, and he waited a few moments before pushing the door open.

In the few seconds that Burt waited before opening the door, Puck had let go of Kurt. He'd moved away and leaned on the counter. And from the look on Puck's face, Kurt would have sworn that _nothing_ had just happened between them. He looked, despite what they'd just been doing, completely calm.

As Kurt stood there staring at Puck, his dad opened the kitchen door. For a moment, Burt just stood there, his eyes quickly (and obviously) moving over their clothes and the amount of space between them. Though he was still amazed that Puck looked so nonchalant, Kurt was grateful as well, because his dad seemed satisfied by what he saw.

"I just wanted to let you two know that I'll be in the living room when you've got the pie." Burt was still looking at the space between Kurt and Puck, but now Kurt didn't feel like he was being appraised. Instead, he sort of felt like his dad was forcing himself to try and be comfortable with the situation.  
And in response Kurt nodded reassuringly, "Ok. We'll be out soon."

Burt didn't say anything else. He just nodded once before letting the door shut behind him.

Just as soon as the door swung shut, Kurt felt Puck behind him, his strong hands on Kurt's hips. And before Kurt could realize what was happening, Puck had buried his face in his neck as he whispered hotly against his skin. "I know what I want for dessert…"

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Hey, son…" Burt stepped off the bottom stair and walked over next to Kurt's bed. He was sitting cross legged in the middle of it, an array of text books and his lap top surrounding him. "I just wanted to say goodnight."

Kurt looked up at his dad and smiled. Puck had left a few hours ago, and save for a few words as they'd cleaned up, this was the first time his dad had talked to him since. "Oh, ok." He felt like he should say _something_ about their evening, but Kurt just didn't have a clue what that something was. So, he settled for the obvious. "Thank you. For tonight."

For a second, Burt didn't respond. There was a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was lost in thought. Kurt wanted to ask his dad if he was ok, but before he could, his dad pressed his lips together in a thin line of resolve. "I like him." Burt didn't say anything else, but that was enough.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kurt's mouth. Knowing that his dad approved of Puck meant so much to him. Granted, his dad didn't know about Puck's bullying or his "business." But still. It made him ridiculously happy nonetheless. All Kurt could think to say was, "Me too."

"Ok then…" Burt sounded nervous, and really, Kurt couldn't blame him.

They'd gone from his dad not being ready to talk about boys to having one over for a sit-down meal in the space of a couple months. For Kurt, that was both amazing and terrifying. He couldn't even imagine how his dad must have been feeling. But from what Burt had said and the look on his face, Kurt thought that it might have been along the same line as his own emotions.

"Right." Burt shoved his hands into his pockets once before pulling them out again. "Well, night, son."

"Good night, Dad." Kurt looked down at his lap for a second and then looked back up. "Thank you, again." He smiled and shrugged a little. There was so much more he could say, but Kurt knew that, for his dad, that would be enough.

Burt smiled back a little, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned around and walked back upstairs. Somehow, Kurt knew that he was headed towards the kitchen and the leftover pie. Which, to be honest, came as no surprise. Because not only did his dad tend to pick at leftovers, but the Caramel Apple Pie was actually really good. So good, in fact, that Kurt thought he might treat himself to another small slice tomorrow. (If there was any left that was.)

Just as the thought crossed Kurt's mind, he heard his father's footsteps in the kitchen above him. And as he listened to the sound, Kurt couldn't help but laugh a little as he flipped open his textbook.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- I wish that I could keep coming up with new and exciting ways to say thank you. But sadly, I cannot, lol. So… THANK YOU to everyone who is following and supporting this story. It means a lot. :D  
- Quack: I don't think that I'll ever be able to thank you enough. Your help and support is beyond incredible. :duck:  
- **Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	29. Wise Up

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 29: Wise Up**

Sunday had passed easily enough for Kurt. Hummel Tires and Lube had been only open until three o'clock, and they'd only had two repairs come in. (Both of which Terry had taken care of.) But that had been just fine with Kurt, because it had allowed him to finish up his homework as he had watched the phone.

But even though the day had been totally uneventful, Kurt hadn't heard from Puck...

Not even once.

At first, Kurt had been _extremely_ bothered by that fact. He had known that he was just being paranoid, but there had been the text Puck had received at dinner the night before. Then there was also the fact that things were just staring to get better between them. And because of that, he couldn't help it. The lack of communication had bothered him.

Kurt, however, hadn't been about to let worry and fear take over his life.

So, he had taken a few deep breaths and forced himself to calm down. Which, amazingly enough, had worked for the most part. Terry hadn't been able to get to him (even though he'd tried his hardest), and Kurt had managed to stay pretty focused on his assignments. But even though he'd settled down a just a _tiny_ bit, he'd refused to let himself call or text Puck, because he hadn't wanted to come off as needy and insecure. More than that though, Kurt had wanted, needed to prove to _himself_ that he was neither of those things.

Deep down, Kurt had known that he was approaching things with Puck with a certain amount of insecurity. But he couldn't help that. This was his first relationship, and to complicate matters further, it was with someone who used to throw pee balloons at him. There was no way that things were going to be easy.

And because of that, Kurt was desperate to try and maintain _some_ level of composure. (Especially since Puck had caught onto his nerves the night before.) But if not calling Puck meant that he was taking charge of himself… then Kurt was going to do it. Because he really couldn't go around being a basket case any longer.

So in an effort to stop himself from calling Puck, he'd called Mercedes to thank her for the help and tell her (almost) all about how dinner had gone. He'd thought about telling her more, but as far as Kurt had been concerned, she didn't need to know about his dad threatening Puck… Or about their mini-make out session in the kitchen for that matter. (He'd quickly decided that he wasn't one to kiss and tell.)

Just as he'd started spilling the details, Mercedes had gone into full-on gossip mode. She'd asked if Puck and Burt had gotten along. And she'd asked if Puck had behaved himself. Then, she'd asked the question that Kurt, himself, had been wondering since kissing Puck the night before.

Her voice had been hesitant but brimming with excitement when she had said… "So are you two, like, _boyfriends_ now?" Mercedes had managed to place so much emphasis on the word "boyfriends" that Kurt had felt himself flush scarlet instantly.

His response had been a mumbled mess of stuttering and stammering. "I… I guess… I don't… I think… Maybe?" Kurt had been able to hear Mercedes laughing gleefully at the other end of the line, which had only made him blush harder.

By the end of the call, she'd made him promise to keep her updated about any important developments.

And just like he'd hoped, the phone call had left Kurt feeling calmer than he had all day.

But there was still a niggling sense of worry in the pit of his stomach that he just couldn't shake.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

As the buzzer on the dryer rang, Kurt heard the doorbell chiming upstairs. Normally, he would have run and answered it. But he needed to get his clothes out and folded if he didn't want to deal with a bunch of wrinkles. (Which he really, _really_ didn't.) However, since his dad was home and most likely watching TV, Kurt didn't feel bad about not going to get it.

So, ignoring the noise, Kurt walked over to the machine and picked his laundry basket up off the floor. As he pulled open the door to the dryer, he heard his dad leaving the living room to get the door. But after that, Kurt didn't give any more thought to whoever might be standing on the doorstep. After all, he knew that it was most likely Uncle Mike coming over to watching some ball game or other. And while he loved his uncle, Kurt wasn't about to let his clothes sit. Family was family, but he had his limits. Especially where Alexander McQueen and Michael Kors were concerned.

But when he turned around, full clothes basket in hand, Kurt was shocked to find Puck staring at him. "Noah, hi. What are you…" Kurt managed to keep his voice calm and his manner nonchalant (for which he congratulated himself). However, as he took a few steps towards Puck, it became painfully obvious that something was wrong. The worried look on Puck's face caused Kurt's resolve to waver slightly. "Is everything ok?"

Without saying a word, Puck moved over to the couch and sat down. When he looked at his hands instead of answering Kurt's question, Kurt felt his heart begin to beat painfully in his chest. He hadn't seen Puck act like this since Quinn's miscarriage. And it took all of the strength he possessed to walk over to the couch instead of running in the opposite direction. Because while everything in Kurt's heart was telling him to go to Puck, everything in his mind was telling him to run, to save himself.

But he couldn't do that.

"Noah…" Kurt placed the laundry basket on the floor and sat down next to Puck.

Puck didn't look up. Instead, he continued to stare at his hands, which he was restlessly folding and unfolding. The movement, so simple, made Kurt's skin feel like it was crawling, and his heart beat even more furiously. When he could no longer stand it, Kurt reached out and placed his hand over Puck's.

"Quinn wants to get back together." Puck's voice was flat, emotionless, and he still wouldn't look up at Kurt. "She, umh… She doesn't know about _this_." He shook his hands a little under Kurt's. "About us."

All at once, Kurt felt his racing heart stop cold and his stomach drop to his feet. He'd known this was going to happen all along. There had been too many signs, too many little moments that pointed to something like this happening. But he'd tried _so_ hard to convince himself that he was wrong and just being paranoid. Even Mercedes had told him not to worry about seeing Puck and Quinn together.

But now… here it was.

Proof that he'd been right all along.

Kurt had never been so unhappy about being right in his life.

"The text at dinner last night…" Kurt slowly pulled his hand back. But before he could totally get it away, Puck reached up and grabbed a hold of him. And oddly enough Kurt was reminded of a Venus Fly Trap snatching up a juicy fly. "The morning I saw you two…"

"Kurt!" Puck squeezed and shook Kurt's hand so hard that Kurt was surprised his wrist didn't crack. "Look at me."

Until he heard Puck tell him to look at him, Kurt thought that he had been. But as the words sank in, Kurt realized that he was off somewhere else, looking back over the evidence that was now so obvious. And when he looked over at Puck, Kurt was surprised to see just how incredibly desperate his face was.

"Just…" Puck pressed his lips together into a hard line, as if it was difficult for him to speak. "Tell me to stay with you." He swallowed deeply and squeezed Kurt's hand painfully again. "Tell me to choose you, and I will."

Before Kurt could even speak, he found himself shaking his head back and forth slowly. Truthfully, he wanted nothing more than to say, "_Yes_, stay with me." But the words wouldn't come. "I… I…" His voice was steadier than he would have thought possible. "I can't make that decision for you."

Even as he was saying the words, Kurt felt his heart breaking. Because deep down… Kurt _knew_ what Puck's choice would be. It was right there on Puck's face, the disappointment and anger and confusion were so obvious in his brown eyes.

As gently as he possibly could, Kurt pulled his hand out of Puck's grasp. It was a little sore now, and Kurt should have been happy about being able to move his fingers. But he wasn't. His hand felt suddenly cold, and he wished that it was between Puck's again. Puck, however, had moved his hands to his knees and was staring at the floor.

"Noah…" Kurt placed his hand tentatively on Puck's arm, but he didn't respond. "Noah, please." He wasn't begging, but his voice was insistent. And when Puck still didn't respond, Kurt placed his hand on Puck's cheek.

At the touch, Puck finally looked up, his eyes dark and questioning.

"I…" For a painful second, Kurt pressed his lips together as he tried to find the right words for what he wanted to say. When he spoke, his voice was low and apologetic. "I can't, I couldn't be with you if it was only because I'd told you to stay," The sentence lacked all finesse or elegance. Normally, that would have bothered Kurt. But right now, all Kurt cared about Puck understanding what he was saying. "Do you know what I mean?"

For a moment, Puck didn't say anything. All he did was stare at Kurt. And try as he might, Kurt couldn't make out what Puck was thinking. His expression was unreadable, and the longer he was silent, the worse Kurt felt. The oppressive quiet between them was filled with an ominous foreboding that made his skin tingle. Finally, when Kurt couldn't take it any longer, Puck nodded once.

But he didn't say anything else.

And neither did Kurt.

Truth be told, he didn't know what else he could say or even what he _should_ say.

But rather than throw out some meaningless platitudes, Kurt took a deep, ragged breath before saying anything. That one lapse in nerves caused his stomach to clench painfully. Up till then, he had been steady, and despite the feeling of dread in his stomach, he'd stayed calm. But that one inhalation of breath felt like it would be the end of him.

And Kurt couldn't, no… he _wouldn't_ let that happen.

So rather than try to speak, Kurt leaned forward and tenderly pressed his lips against Puck's. For the first time since this whole mess had begun, he didn't feel tentative or unsure. Instead, as he stroked Puck's cheek with his thumb, Kurt was completely confident in himself and what he was doing. He might have hated himself for it, but he knew that what he was doing was right.

Kurt was just about to pull back when he felt Puck return the kiss. The touch was barely there, but there was a reverence to it that very clearly said, "I'm sorry."

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

A few minutes after Puck left, Kurt heard his dad's footsteps coming down the stairs. Kurt was still sitting on the couch, his now wrinkled laundry at his feet. And though he was looking down at it, he was still seeing Puck's back as he walked up the steps and out of the basement.

But when Kurt saw his dad's worn out work boots appear next the black laundry basket, he looked up.

Burt was staring down at him with his hands on his hips. He looked confused and a little worried. "What just happened?"

Kurt didn't answer. Instead, he looked down at his lap, pretending to study a non-existent flaw in his plaid pants.

"Son, tell me wh-"

Before his dad could finish the sentence, Kurt looked back up. In a strained whisper, he said, "I think we just broke up."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Kurt looked away. He didn't think he could bear to see his dad's face at that moment. What he said was bad enough….

"Oh, Kurt. I'm sorry."

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"I'm going to _kill_ him. I'm going to bust his windows, rip him limb from limb, and then… I'm going to _kill_ Noah Puckerman." Mercedes' voice was a righteous growl, and Kurt could practically see the scene she was planning in her head. And though her righteous indignation made him smile, it wasn't what Kurt wanted.

Or what he needed.

"No, you're not." Kurt pushed his locker door shut and adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. When the bag continued to bite into his neck, he felt a bone weary fatigue seep into his body.

That morning, Mercedes had met Kurt by his locker, and he'd told her the whole story. At first, he'd chosen to tell her in public in the hopes that it would help him stay calm. But as the tale had unfolded, Mercedes had begun working herself up into a fit of anger and indignation on his behalf. And having her be so upset for him had been enough to steady Kurt's wavering emotions.

"I'm not?" Mercedes was so shocked that her eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline. The sight was so amusing that Kurt snorted at her. That, however, only caused her eyebrows to go (if possible) higher.

"No, you are not." Even as the words were coming out of his mouth, Kurt could hardly believe himself. A few weeks ago, he'd have been a mess in this situation. But now, Kurt felt…stronger, surer. He knew that he'd made the right decision with Puck. And even though their last kiss had almost ripped him apart, he was proud of himself for holding his ground.

"Instead, we're going to go to class…." Kurt reached out and pulled Mercedes arm through his snuggly. "Then, after school, my house for a sappy movie marathon… Which we'll mock, _mercilessly_ of course, as we give each other facials." He forced himself to smile as he steered himself and Mercedes down the hall.

"You're really ok?" Without missing a step, Kurt leaned over and gave Mercedes a small kiss on the cheek. "I'm not exactly jumping for joy, but I'm fine." Once again, Kurt forced a smile to cross his face.

But with each fake grin and reassuring "I'm fine," Kurt began to realize just how much he already missed Puck.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

After lunch, Kurt stopped by his locker to change his books for his afternoon classes. He'd managed to avoid Puck all morning. And Kurt had found that if he focused hard enough, the pain he felt was almost non-existent. However, Kurt had also found that maintaining that level of focus was exhausting.

So exhausting that, when Kurt felt a small hand on his shoulder, he didn't even jump. "Umh, Kurt… Can I talk to you for a minute?"

The voice of the person speaking was soft, almost painfully subdued. And even though it was next to unrecognizable, there was still something familiar about it. Kurt had heard it many times before. Just never quite like this.

Turning around, Kurt was surprised to find himself looking down at Quinn. The first thing he noticed was that she looked much healthier than he'd seen her in weeks. Her cheeks were healthy and pink, and her blonde hair was shining again. And for some reason, Kurt was taken aback by the fact that her hair was split into pig tails at the base of her scalp. It just seemed so childish for someone who had just lost a baby. But even though her hair seemed so wrong, Kurt noticed that her brown eyes now had a slightly haunted look about them.

As Kurt took in Quinn's appearance, he struggled to find something appropriate to say. She just looked so… lost. "Oh, hey, Quinn. Sure."

"Puck told me about your dad. What he did at the hospital." Quinn gestured slightly behind her. As he followed the movement of her hand, Kurt was surprised to find Puck standing there. Up till then, Kurt had been so caught up in her appearance that he hadn't thought about Puck or where he might be.

But now that Kurt had met eyes with the other boy, it took all of the strength he possessed not to stare at him.

"I just…" Quinn pressed her lips together and looked down at her fidgeting hands. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"Oh." Even though Kurt's eyes were glued to Quinn, he could _feel_ Puck looking at him. "You're welcome." Given what she was thanking him for, his response seemed so inappropriate and inadequate. But there was nothing else he _could_ say.

Across from him, Quinn's lip twitched, as if she was trying to smile but couldn't summon up the energy for it. "Would you, would you thank your dad for me too?" She tried to smile again, and this time, she was almost successful.

The sight of Quinn, a ghost of the vibrant girl she'd once been, broke Kurt's heart. "Of course." Kurt's voice was barely a whisper in the crowded hallway. But Kurt knew Quinn had heard him, because she nodded softly in response.

When she spoke, her voice was just as low. And Kurt couldn't tell if she'd actually spoken or if he'd just been able to tell by the shape of her lips that she'd said, "Thank you."

Before Kurt could decide one way or the other, Quinn had turned away from him.

But unlike Quinn, Puck hadn't moved. Instead, he'd stayed in his place and was staring at Kurt with unreadable eyes.

For a second, they just looked at one another saying nothing and yet somehow everything at the same time. To Kurt, it seemed ridiculous that Puck's eyes could go from being a complete puzzle to an open book in a matter of seconds. But they could, and they had. And now, Kurt could see the anger and apology and sadness in them with such clarity that it caused his chest to ache.

The surge of emotion made Kurt want to reach out and comfort Puck. But then he remembered _why_ Puck was looking at him with such melancholy in his eyes, and the desire quickly faded away. Puck was no longer his to touch or comfort (as if he ever had been). And the space between them seemed to crackle with that fact.

Across from him, Puck opened his mouth, his eyes now full of uncertainty. But before he could speak, Quinn's soft voice interrupted him. "Are you… Are you coming?"

Puck pressed his lips together painfully, the words obviously lost. And looking defeated he turned and followed Quinn down the hall.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- To those of you who continue to follow this story and those of you who have just found it… THANK YOU. Your support is amazing and _very_ much appreciated. :)  
- Quack: You are such an awesome beta. Your boob notes make this process so much more amusing. :D  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	30. November Becomes December

**Put Me Back Together**  
**Chapter 30: November Becomes December**

Without Kurt even noticing it, November became December. And with it came colder weather and the snow that had been threatening to fall for weeks. All around him, Kurt heard people talking about upcoming exams or what they wanted for Christmas or Chanukah. But even though the halls seemed to be filled with gossip and chatter, he'd heard nothing about Puck and Quinn after the first couple of days they'd gotten back together.

Those first three days had been a torturous nightmare for Kurt. Not only had he had to endure overhearing rumors about Puck and Quinn together, but he'd had to act like it didn't matter to him in the least. He'd had to pretend that seeing them holding hands or sitting next to each other during glee didn't rip him apart inside.

And as one week had quickly become two, Kurt had found that the pain of seeing Puck around was lessening. They hadn't spoken to one another or acknowledged each other's presence unless forced.

Of course, it hadn't been easy, not by any means. But it had slowly become easier for Kurt to be near Puck, and Kurt had begun staring at him less and less.

Two days into the third week, however, Kurt realized that his wound was far from healed…

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"Just go to lunch, Mercedes." Kurt waved his best friend towards the cafeteria. "I'll meet you there." In an attempt to take first place at Sectionals, Mr. Schuester had scheduled an impromptu glee rehearsal right before lunch. And in a rush to get to the cafeteria afterwards, Kurt had somehow left his Michael Kors scarf behind. How he'd managed that when he'd left it _on top_ of his bag, Kurt didn't know. But either way, halfway to the cafeteria, Kurt had realized that it was gone.

"Ok, but hurry. Today is Taco Fiesta day, and I know how much you love that." Mercedes took a few steps backward as she shot Kurt a brilliant smile.

"How could I forget? It's one of the few edible things that this school serves." At his response, Mercedes just laughed before turning and walking down the hall.

A few minutes later, Kurt was back in the choir room. His scarf, however, was nowhere to be seen. He checked on the chair he'd left his bag on and all around it. Though really… it had been a fruitless endeavor, given the fact that the scarf was rather large and bulky and therefore hard to miss. After all, if the scarf had been there, he'd have seen it right away. But he'd gone through the motions anyway.

He was just about to run to the lost and found when he heard the door of the classroom locking behind him. The sound of the latch was only a soft click, but it had rung out long and clear.

"What…" Kurt spun around quickly, wondering who would lock him in and why. His mind quickly jumped from one scenario to another, including everything from Rachel cornering him about glee to Karofsky waiting with a slushie (or worse).

What he saw, however, caused him to blink once, twice as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Because standing next to the door, out of sight of the window was Puck. And in his hand was the brown scarf Kurt had been looking for.

It had been weeks since Kurt had allowed himself to make eye contact with Puck. And now that he was, Kurt could hardly believe not only how much it hurt, but how much better it made him feel. It was a ridiculous, confusing contradiction, but it was true nonetheless.

"Noah." The name was out of Kurt's mouth before he could stop it, and he instantly wished that he could take it back. The other boy was no longer Noah to him. He was, once again, _Puck_. He didn't know why, or how, he hadn't thought of that before, but now that he had…

The realization caused Kurt to drop his gaze to the floor in embarrassment.

"Kurt." When Puck said his name, Kurt pressed his eyes tightly shut. It had been _so_ long since Puck had spoken to him, but more importantly… it had been so long since Kurt had heard Puck say his name. And the memories it brought back were nearly unbearable.

As his brain assaulted him with flashes of Chinese food and _Dexter_, as well as Weezer and corn fields, Kurt realized that he _needed_ to get out of there.

_Fast._

"Please, can… can I just have my scarf back?" Kurt lifted his head a little but not enough to look Puck in the eye.

"You want it?" Puck paused, and Kurt reached out for the scarf. "You gotta come over here and get it." There was a note of challenge in his voice that caused Kurt's head to snap up the rest of the way.

From the look on Puck's face, it was obvious that he wasn't joking. If Kurt wanted to get his scarf back, he was going to have to play by Puck's rules. And there was just no way that that could (or would) end well.

For either of them.

Throwing his head back and looking up at the ceiling Kurt muttered to himself. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"Nope. Not kidding. You want this _thing_…" Puck dangled the scarf like a fuzzy cat toy in front of himself. "You have to come over _here_."

Exasperated, Kurt shook his head in disbelief. He wanted his scarf back, but staring at Puck, Kurt couldn't tell if it was really worth the trouble or not. Because deep down, Kurt _knew_ what Puck was doing. Subtly and nuance were not Puck's strong points.

"Well, what is it gonna be?" Puck shook the scarf again. "You gonna come over here? Or do I toss this heinous thing in the dumpster after school?"

"It is not… you wouldn't…" Kurt felt himself fill with indignation and anger. Of _all_ the buttons for Puck to push, _those_ were the worst. Which, of course, Puck knew.

"It is. And I would." His voice was completely steady. And it left no room for doubt about the seriousness of his threat. Not that there was really any doubt in Kurt's mind about the validity of Puck's statement.

"Give. Me. My…" Ignoring his better judgment, Kurt stomped towards Puck, his footsteps accenting the words. With every step he took, his heart began to beat a little faster. "Sca-"

The second he was within arm's reach of Puck, Puck dropped the scarf on the ground and grabbed a hold of Kurt's hips. And before Kurt could protest or pull away, Puck pulled him flush against his body. The embrace was so tight and so possessively fierce that Kurt felt himself being lifted onto the tips of his toes.

The next thing Kurt knew, his arms were around Puck's neck for the first time in what felt like forever, and Puck's mouth was pressed painfully, furiously against his.

All thoughts of Quinn or of the past few weeks were forgotten as Kurt gave himself over to pure sensation.

Puck's fingers tightened on Kurt's hips so tightly that he could feel each individual fingertip biting into his flesh. The pressure was sure to leave a smattering of little bruises, but Kurt didn't care. He wanted, no, he _needed_ to see the physical memory of this moment on his pale skin later.

Once again, Puck clenched his hands around Kurt's waist. But instead of leaving them there, Puck slid his hands up Kurt's back, bunching and un-bunching them in the fabric of his sweater as he did so. The loss of the secure hold on his waist was more than Kurt could handle, and he pressed himself more tightly against Puck's chest.

But that still wasn't enough, because Puck's hands were still exploring instead of staying in one place and keeping Kurt steady.

Hoping that Puck would get the idea, Kurt slid his hands over the back of Puck's skull. When they found his mohawk, Kurt pulled Puck's face more tightly against his own (if that was even possible).

In response, Puck inhaled a ragged breath through his nose that seemed to touch every part of Kurt. And _finally_ Puck's hands stopped moving as they latched painfully onto Kurt's ribcage.

The touch was enough to send a shiver down Kurt's spine that he felt echo through Puck.

Unable to go without breathing for any longer, Kurt reluctantly pulled his mouth away from Puck's. But even though he needed to breathe, Kurt _wasn't_ willing to break the moment. So rather than move, he let his head fall back, exposing the curve of his neck to Puck. And as Puck moved his lips hungrily over Kurt's collar bone, Kurt couldn't have been happier about not wearing a scarf.

As Puck worked his way up the line of Kurt's neck, alternating between intense kisses and sweet little bites, Kurt heard himself whisper softly. "_Noah_…"

At the sound of his name, Puck rolled them both sideways so that it was now Kurt who was pressed up against the wall. When Kurt felt his shoulder blades biting into the cool brick wall, he sucked in a tiny breath. Puck was pressed against him, but instead of feeling trapped, Kurt had never felt more secure in his life.

"_Kurt_…" Puck whispered the name against Kurt's neck as if it was the holiest of prayers. "I told you.." His hands traveled back down to Kurt's waist, reclaiming their spots on his hips. As Puck dug his fingers into Kurt's flesh again, Kurt bit down on his lower lip. "Just tell me..." Puck pressed his lips against Kurt's ear as he whispered to him. "Tell me to leave her, and I will."

Even though Puck had said _her_, Kurt heard _Quinn_.

That one word immediately pulled him back to harsh reality. Puck had gotten back together with Quinn weeks ago, and he was once again asking Kurt to make a decision that wasn't his to make.

"No." The protest sounded week even to Kurt's own ears. "Stop." Kurt angled his head around in an attempt to get away from Puck's mouth. Puck, however, didn't stop kissing any part of Kurt he could reach. "_Puck_, stop." Kurt's voice was gentle, but the use of Puck's nickname, instead of his first name, seemed to echo through the room.

And when Puck pulled his mouth away from the place behind Kurt's ear, Kurt felt as if he was breaking in two.

Instead of pulling completely away though, Puck pressed his forehead into Kurt's shoulder. His breaths came hot and heavy against Kurt's skin.

The feel of Puck's labored breathing caused Kurt to take a long, steadying breath of his own.

"I told you before," Kurt held onto the back of Puck's head, unwilling to lose the contact. "I can't make that decision for you. I just can't."

"Why?" Puck's voice was muffled by Kurt's sweater, but Kurt could still hear the pain in it.

"I already told you…" Kurt pressed his lips together, desperately wishing that he didn't have to go through this again. The first time had been hard enough. "I can't be with someone just because I asked them to choose me." The sentence was so convoluted that Kurt wasn't even sure if it made sense. "I'd always wonder…" Kurt paused as he tried to come up with something that would make Puck understand. "I need someone to choose _me_ for _me_ because _they_ want to. I won't be a second choice."

"You're not…" Puck pressed his head more firmly against Kurt's shoulder as if to prove how serious he was. "And you wouldn't…"

"No, Puck. I won't choose for you." This time, the use of Puck's name seemed to put some distance between them even though they hadn't moved an inch. "And I won't do _this_ again either." The words killed him even as he said them, but Kurt knew it was the right thing to do.

"Kurt…" Puck tightened his grip on Kurt's hips, like that would stop the inevitable.

But Kurt didn't respond, _couldn't_ respond. Instead, he just sighed deeply as he pushed Puck away from him. Puck tried to resist but he didn't put up much of a fight. And when Kurt was free of Puck's weight, he felt a familiar loneliness set into his bones that he'd thought he'd gotten rid of.

Unable to look at Puck, Kurt straightened his sweater and turned towards the classroom's door.

With a small flick of the wrist, he undid the lock and walked out, his scarf long forgotten.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

When Kurt walked into the cafeteria a few minutes later, he didn't bother going through the lunch line. Instead, he went straight to his regular table and sat down next to Mercedes.

"Kurt, what took you so long? And where's your scarf?" Mercedes slid a small plate with two tacos on it in front of Kurt. "They stopped serving a few minutes ago. This is all that was left." She sounded a little put out by the fact that Kurt had been so late for lunch.

Rather than try to respond, Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. Not only was he angry and confused about what had just happened with Puck, but now he was irritated with Mercedes. It wasn't that she'd done anything wrong per say, but her attitude just rubbed him the wrong way. And on top of that, he was unsure if he was hungry or not, even though the tacos looked delicious.

When she could no longer stand the silence (which didn't take long), Mercedes looked over at him. Like, _really_ looked at him. And from the expression on her face, she didn't like what she saw. "Kurt, what happened to you?"

Finally deciding that he wasn't hungry after all, Kurt leaned back in his chair. "What do you _think_ happened?" The words came out harsher than he'd intended, but Kurt didn't care.

This time, it was Mercedes' turn not to say anything. But then again, the look of murderous rage on her face said it all.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Somehow, Kurt managed to calm Mercedes down by the end of the day, but it had taken every last drop of strength he possessed. And by the time he was walking out of the school after the last bell, Kurt was beyond exhausted.

Not only because of Mercedes, but because of Puck as well.

Passing by Puck in the halls over the past few weeks had been difficult, but Kurt had managed. He'd been able to deal with the pain of seeing the other boy around. But after what had happened in the choir room…

Kurt wasn't sure if he'd even be able to deal with that now.

And though Kurt realized just how childish that seemed, he couldn't stop himself from thinking that it just wasn't fair.

After all, wasn't it bad enough knowing that this could all be nothing more than a bad dream? That Puck could be _his_ instead of Quinn's if he were to just say, "Yes"?

That was _all_ it would take.

Of that, Kurt was _absolutely_ certain.

But Kurt _would not_ make that choice for Puck. As much as he cared for the other boy, Kurt knew he was worth more than that.

He just wished that making the right choice wasn't so painful.

Pulling his coat as tightly around himself as he possibly could, Kurt cursed himself for not picking up his scarf as he left the choir room. It was freezing outside, and his jacket wasn't very heavy. When he'd gotten dressed in the morning he'd opted for light and adorable over heavy and practice. It was a decision he was now regretting.

As he made his way through the parked cars and towards his Navigator, Kurt continued to mentally berate himself for what had happened with Puck.

For the most part, he'd managed to keep himself together over the past few weeks. Sure, he'd had his moments when he'd felt like the world was ending. But all in all, Kurt was proud of how he'd handled the situation.

But today… all it had taken was a scarf and an empty choir room to make Kurt forget about all of that.

And now, there was an ache in his chest so profound that Kurt didn't think he'd ever recover.

All around him, kids were laughing and playing in the snow that had fallen between first and seventh period. There wasn't really much of the fine powder, but there was enough to make (albeit tiny) snowballs. As one went flying past his face, Kurt scowled darkly. Normally, he loved winter and the pristine beauty of freshly fallen snow.

But today?

Today he wished that it would all just melt.

Ignoring the calls of whoever had just thrown the snowball, Kurt pulled at his jacket again; this time, however, it wasn't in an effort to protect himself from the cold. It was to protect himself from everything else.

But hidden away from everything, Kurt found that the voice in his head became _that_ much louder.

In an attempt to block out his conscience, Kurt inhaled a deep breath of icy air that burned his lungs. And as much as it hurt, Kurt couldn't help but notice that it drowned out the ache Puck had left behind.

Walking between a brand new Jeep and a rusted out hunk of junk, Kurt spotted his Navigator. It was straight across from him and still coated in a light dusting of snow. (He figured that the reason the snow on his vehicle was untouched was because he'd parked so far away.) But even though the white blanket was undisturbed, Kurt could see a lump sitting on the hood. From where he was, the only thing he could tell was that it was a shapeless, lifeless blob.

The sight caused Kurt to walk a little faster, the curiosity gnawing at him. But when he came up next to the car and saw just what was waiting there for him, Kurt felt his stomach drop to his feet.

Because folded up (very haphazardly) and sitting on the hood of the Navigator was the scarf he'd left in the choir room.

When he picked it up, Kurt felt tiny flakes of snow melt against his palm. The material was cool to the touch, as if it had been there for a while, and Kurt wondered just how long it had been sitting there waiting for him. And as Kurt decided that it must have been there for an hour at least, he realized that he hadn't seen Puck after lunch.

Or Quinn for that matter.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- What can I say but thank you to all of you? You continue to blow me away with all of your support. Ducks and kisses.  
- So… I've officially finished writing this story. And I'm happy to (finally) be able to give you all a final chapter count. When I first started writing this, I'd envisioned it as being 30 chapters long. But in the course of writing, a few new story lines developed and this story came out to 33 chapters long.  
- Quack: You are so awesome. Thank you for all of your help and support.  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	31. Longtime Sunshine

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 31: Longtime Sunshine**

After climbing into his car, Kurt placed his scarf on the seat next to him. He thought about wrapping it around his neck. After all, given the fact that he had the heat blasting, it wouldn't take long for the brown knit to warm up. But even though he knew that, Kurt couldn't bring himself to pick it up after having set it down. Because despite the fact that it was only a scarf (albeit a fashionable Michael Kors scarf)…

Kurt blamed it for what had happened in the choir room with Puck.

He blamed it for the fresh heartache that he knew would take weeks to fade.

Deep down, Kurt knew that that was ridiculous, that it wasn't the scarf's fault. And not so deep down, Kurt knew that Puck had set him up. Puck had taken the scarf off of Kurt's bag _knowing_ he'd come back for it. But even though Kurt understood that, he couldn't help but resent the scarf and what it now stood for.

As Kurt drove home, he had to fight off the _ridiculous_ feeling that he was being stared at accusingly by the lump on the seat next to him. He thought about turning on the radio to take his mind off of it. But Kurt decided against it, because he _wasn't_ going to have his life ruled by a piece of fabric. He might have been a slave to fashion, but that was just too much. So he drove along in silence, his blue eyes glued to the snow-dusted road.

When he finally pulled up in front of his house, Kurt had to stop himself from slamming on the breaks at the sight of Puck's beat-up pick-up parked on the curb.

There was just…

He couldn't…

The sight was so confusing and unexpected that it set Kurt's mind reeling in exasperated confusion. He had told Puck, only a few hours ago, that he wouldn't be pulled into rooms for stolen moments again. Which he'd meant with all of his heart.

Now, Puck was parked in front of his house. And it just didn't make any sense. But more importantly, it wasn't fair.

To himself.

Or Quinn.

Feeling his emotions from that afternoon magnify tenfold, Kurt pulled his Navigator into the driveway. Once he'd parked, Kurt grabbed his things (making sure to leave the scarf behind) and headed towards the front porch. After all, there was no point in putting off the inevitable.

He hadn't even reached the bottom step when he spotted Puck sitting on the swing.

Instantly, he was reminded of Mercedes and how she'd been sitting there the day she'd confronted him about Puck. To Kurt, that day felt like it had happened centuries ago. In reality, it had barely been a month. Taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the worst, Kurt trudged up the steps.

When he reached the top, he finally allowed himself to look at Puck.

Puck was slouched down into the porch swing, the snaps of his letterman jacket done all the way up to the top. Puck's hands were shoved into his pockets, and he was jiggling his legs up and down. By the reddish tint to his cheeks, it was obvious that he was freezing, but Kurt was determined to not let that soften his anger. "What do you want?"

Puck jumped to his feet, exhaling a puff of white air. "I, umh…"

"Oh, Kurt!" At the sound of his name being called Kurt turned back towards the driveway. Mrs. Denton, the widow from across the street, was leaning out of her front door. "Is everything ok over there? Do I need to call your father?"

"No, no. It's alright." Kurt waved to his neighbor. "We go to school together." He tried to sound cheery, hoping that she would leave him alone.

"Ok…" She didn't sound convinced, but Mrs. Denton pulled the door shut a little anyway. But before closing it all the way, she called back to him one more time. "Well… if you need anything, you just come on over, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am." Next to Kurt, Puck shifted on his feet uncomfortably. "I'll do that."

Mrs. Denton continued to watch him for a few more seconds before disappearing back into her house. When Kurt turned back around, Puck mumbled softly. "She's been watching me for a while now."

Kurt just looked at him for a moment before rolling his eyes in exasperation. "How long have you… _No_. Forget it. I don't want to know." Kurt shoved his keys into the lock and pushed the front door open. "Get inside before one of my neighbors calls the cops on you."

Without a word, Puck walked into the house, and Kurt followed him.

"Go downstairs. I'll be there in a minute." Truth be told, Kurt didn't want Puck in his bedroom. But out of all the rooms in the house, it was where he felt the most relaxed and at ease. And considering that he didn't know what was coming, Kurt figured that he wanted to be as comfortable as possible.

Before heading downstairs though, Kurt walked into the hallway to adjust the heat. His dad insisted that they keep it down on seventy-two degrees in the winter when no one was home. But at soon as he walked in the door, Kurt would pop it back up to seventy-six. And as he stood there staring at the little electronic numbers flashing on the screen, he decided to turn it up to seventy-eight. He tried to tell himself that it _wasn't_ because of how cold Puck had looked, but he knew there was no real use in denying it. Puck had been sitting outside for who knew how long, and it was obvious that he was freezing.

Listening to the sounds of the thermostat roaring to life, Kurt walked back down the hall. He had no desire to find out what Puck wanted, but he wasn't going to run away either. So he took a deep, steadying breath before walking down the staircase into the basement.

When Kurt stepped into his room, he expected to see Puck sitting on the couch. But all that was there was his letterman jacket. And sighing in irritation, Kurt didn't need to see that the couch was damp to know that the melted snowflakes were soaking into the fabric. But as much as that irritated him, Kurt was much more curious about where Puck was. Tearing his eyes away from the coat and scanning the room, he promised himself that he would take care of his upholstery later.

Taking a few more steps into the room, Kurt found Puck standing by his bed. His back was partly towards Kurt, and Kurt could see that he was holding the photo that he kept on his nightstand. It was just an old snapshot of himself with his mom and dad. But it was special to him, because Uncle Mike had taken it at Kurt's sixth birthday party, just a few months before his mother's death.

It was the last picture he had of them looking truly happy.

Walking up behind Puck, Kurt silently pulled the frame out of his hands. As he opened the small drawer of the nightstand and tucked the memento away, Puck spoke. "You look like her."

Kurt had heard that a thousand times from his family. And it was true; he looked much more like his mother than his father. They had the same dark hair and fair skin; even their mouths had the same shape. The only feature he'd inherited from his dad was his clear eyes. But even then, they weren't the same shade of blue.

Normally, he loved the compliment. But right now, from Puck, it made his blood run cold.

Instead of commenting on Puck's observation, Kurt crossed his arms protectively over his chest. And looking at Puck, he said, "Why are you here, Puck?" Originally, Kurt hadn't intended to use the other boy's name at all. But at the last second he decided to call him Puck, hoping that he would get the message.

And from the flash of hurt in his brown eyes, he had.

Instantly, Kurt regretted it, but he kept his arms crossed over his chest anyway. He wasn't about to let his guard down because of a pair of puppy dog eyes.

"I broke up with Quinn. After lunch today." Puck's voice was low and serious. Kurt could see the truth of the statement written across Puck's face.

But even though Kurt knew Puck wasn't lying, all he could say was, "What?"

Before saying anything else, Puck dropped down to sit on the edge of Kurt's bed. But the fact that Puck was on his _bed_ didn't even register with Kurt. Right then, all Kurt could see was the tense line of Puck's shoulders and the way he pressed his palms into his knees. "We broke up. I mean… _I_ broke up with her."

The second time Puck said it, Kurt felt his resolve soften. His arms, so tense only a moment before, fell to his sides as Kurt perched on the edge of the bed. "I don't…"

"You told me to choose." Puck rubbed the heels of his hands over his thighs. "And I did."

As soon as the words were out of Puck's mouth, Kurt felt himself fill with guilt. "I didn't ask you to choose me…" Realistically, Kurt knew he hadn't asked Puck to pick him, but he felt the need to defend himself nonetheless.

"Oh, I know." Puck laughed humorously as he shook his head back and forth. "Trust me, I _know_." Kurt opened his mouth to say something but closed it again when he heard Puck exhale a deep, ragged breath. It was obvious that he had more to say. "And I tried…." Puck's voice trailed off, and he gripped his knees so tightly his knuckles turned white. "These past few weeks… without you…." Dropping his head a little more, Puck sucked in another painful breath."I tried to stay with her."

Watching him, Kurt wanted to reach out and put his hand on Puck's shoulder. But he was still trying not to give into the impulse. So Kurt carefully folded his hands and placed them on his lap. "Why…." Even though Kurt had removed the temptation from his hands, he felt himself leaning towards the other boy. "Why did you…." The first word that popped into Kurt's head was _choose_, but that didn't feel right, not after everything. "Why did you go back to Quinn?"

For the first time since sitting down on the bed, Puck lifted his head. But instead of looking at Kurt, he looked up at ceiling. And with another labored exhale, Puck laid back on the bed. The sight of Puck lying on his pillow gripped Kurt's heart. But before he could process the sight, Puck opened his mouth. "I, uh…" Reaching up, Puck rubbed at his eyebrows, his eyes pressed tightly shut.

Since Puck couldn't see him, Kurt slowly lowered himself down into the pillow next to Puck. As he moved, Kurt didn't say a word. But when Puck spoke his voice was softer, as if he didn't need to speak so loud now that Kurt was lying next to him. "I felt like… like I owed it to her. To the… the baby."

When Kurt had lain down, he'd laid on his back. But as Puck spoke, Kurt shifted onto his side, turning into Puck. Since the night of Quinn's miscarriage and the few minutes they'd spent together in the empty hallway, Kurt hadn't heard Puck talk about the baby once. And now that he was, Kurt felt the need to be as close to him as possible.

"I remember what it was like when my dad left my mom. How she was after… and I didn't want…." Kurt watched in silent heartache as Puck pressed his knuckles into his forehead. "I didn't want Quinn to know what that…."

"Shhh…." Kurt couldn't take it anymore. He didn't need to know why Puck had gone back to Quinn. All he wanted was to soothe the pain that had settled into the lines of the other boy's face. And no longer caring about not touching Puck, Kurt reached over Puck's chest and placed his palm on his cheek.

"Kurt, I'm so -" Puck's voice was jagged, and Kurt couldn't stand it.

"It's ok, Noah." Moving carefully and deliberately, Kurt pressed his forehead against the side of Puck's face. "It's ok."

"Kurt…" Slowly and just as purposely, Puck turned his face towards Kurt. And without preamble, he pressed his lips tentatively against Kurt's.

Kurt responded instantly, his own mouth moving along with Puck's. The kiss was slow and soft, and Kurt could feel the sadness and apology in it. Puck was saying what he couldn't put into words, and Kurt knew that if he were to pull away now, Puck wouldn't open up again.

Without breaking the kiss, Puck rolled onto his side so that he was facing Kurt. They were so close now that their knees were pressed together. Gently, Puck pulled his mouth away from Kurt's a little, and even though Kurt wanted to protest, he didn't. Instead, he ran his thumb over Puck's cheek, waiting to see what he would do next.

The next thing Kurt felt was Puck's hand on his shoulder and his lips pressed into the underside of his jaw. It was a painful kiss that seemed to sear a brand into the tender flesh, and Kurt shuddered in response. Puck worked his way slowly and steadily over the contours of Kurt's jaw, all the while sliding his hand over the plain of Kurt's back. But when he reached his hip, he stopped.

For a few seconds, Puck's strong fingers kneaded the muscles there, and Kurt slid the hand that was on Puck's cheek around his neck. When he found the sensitive spot at the base of Puck's skull, Puck responded by pulling Kurt flush against his body.

Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, they were pressed against one another, and all space between them was gone. And before Kurt knew what was happening, Puck's mouth was on his again, his lips parting slowly. As Kurt tried to process what was going on, he felt Puck's tongue flick out against his lower lip.  
While Puck waited for Kurt to respond, he squeezed Kurt's hip again, almost as if trying to encourage him.

But as much as Kurt's body was screaming out for him to respond by parting his own lips… his heart and his mind were telling him that something was wrong. Puck's kisses were too painful, and there was an underlying sense of desperation to them that Kurt had just picked up on. And now that he knew it was there, he came to a very harsh realization:

This was too much, too soon.

For _both_ of them.

Tension and emotions were running high after the past few weeks. And Kurt knew that if they went any further, they'd both regret it. It might have only been a kiss, but Kurt didn't want to throw away their whole… whatever they had because of it.

So, taking a deep breath, Kurt braced himself for whatever was to come and pulled away from Puck. Instantly, he regretted it, but deep down, he knew that he'd done the right thing for both of them.

Before Kurt had a chance to say anything though, Puck had rolled onto his back and pressed his hands into his eyes. "I should go." His voice was muffled, but Kurt could still make out the anger and hurt in it. Dropping his hands, Puck moved to sit up.

Not wanting him to leave, Kurt reached out and put his hand on Puck's shoulder. "Don't leave. Not yet." When Puck stopped moving in response, Kurt pulled him back down beside him.

But even though Puck was lying down, Kurt could still feel the tension radiating off of the boy next to him. Quickly, his mind tried to come up with a way to calm him, to soothe the pain he was holding onto. However, all that came to him was a story about a song he'd stumbled upon when he'd Googled Weezer a few weeks ago.

Rivers Cuomo, the lead singer, had written it as an ode to the old hippie lullabies his mom and stepdad had sung to him and his little brother. He'd written it during a hard time in his life as a way to reconnect with the safety and peace of his childhood.

At the time, the story behind the song hadn't mattered to Kurt at all. But now, he realized just how much the lullaby and the story behind it had stayed with him. Granted, he didn't remember _all_ of the lyrics, but he remembered enough.

Pressing his lips together, Kurt placed his hand on Puck's chest. And moving so that his mouth was next to Puck's ear, Kurt began to sing softly, picking up partway through the song. "In the middle of the living room an old piano…." His voice was barely above a whisper, and Kurt suddenly felt self-conscious about not knowing all of the words, but he didn't stop singing.

"Sometimes it doesn't seem so bad to settle down with a good woman…." Kurt couldn't stop the sarcasm from slipping in on the last word, and even Puck snorted in amusement. "Leave this lonely life behind forever and ever."

Taking a deep breath, Kurt slid a little closer to Puck and pressed his forehead gently against his head. "Longtime sunshine, longtime sunshine upon me…." There was more to the chorus, but Kurt didn't bother with it, choosing to skip to the next part instead.

"Sometimes I wanna get in a car, close my eyes and drive real fast…" Puck turned his face ever so slightly towards Kurt's as he reached up and laid his hand on tops of Kurt's. "Keep on going till I get someplace where I can truly rest." Kurt felt himself sinking into the mattress as he began struggling to remember the lyrics. "Longtime … Sunshine…" His eyes fluttered shut, but he continued to sing. Or he thought he did at least. "Longtime sunshine upon me…"

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

When Kurt woke up a few hours later, the room was almost dark, and the bed was empty. Reaching out, he ran his hand over the place where Puck had been laying either. The soft grey comforter was cool to the touch. It was obvious that he'd left a while ago.

Climbing out of bed, Kurt tried to straighten his rumpled clothes pointlessly, as he walked upstairs. His stomach was growling, and he felt as if he'd slept for hours. Walking into the kitchen, he went straight to the refrigerator and pulled open the door.

"Finally decide to get up?" Not expecting anyone to be in the kitchen, Kurt jumped and spun around at the sound of his dad's voice. "You missed dinner. I got takeout from Mike's." Burt stuffed a few fries into his mouth before pointing out a brown bag on the counter. "There's a chicken sandwich in there for you."

"Thank you." Kurt's voice was thick with sleep.

"So… I saw Noah leaving tonight." Burt picked up his Coke as he eyed Kurt. "You two working things out?" Waiting for an answer, he took a swig from the can.

Unfortunately though, Kurt didn't have an answer to give him.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- The song featured in this chapter is "Longtime Sunshine" from _Alone: the Home Recordings of Rivers Cuomo_.  
- Once again… Thank you. Thank you all so very much. Your continued love and support means more than I can say.  
- Quack: Beta of betas, you deserve a million and one ducks for your awesome-ness.  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	32. Frost Bite

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 32: Frost Bite**

Before Kurt took one step into WMHS the next morning, he made a promise to himself.

It was stupid and pretty ridiculous, but it was a vow that he _needed_ to keep.

No matter what.

As he walked down the hall towards his locker, Kurt kept his eyes forward and focused. Because, as he'd just told himself outside… he wouldn't go in search of Puck. He would play it cool, calm, and collected until he had reason to act otherwise. Then, if Puck should approach him or corner him, Kurt would take his cues from the other boy. Since, as it was, he had absolutely no clue how to act after what had happened last night.

The night before, Puck hadn't called or texted him, leaving Kurt feeling as if he'd been stranded in space. He'd felt lost and confused, and his dad's question about if they were working things out had only served to confuse him more. (In the end the only answer he'd been able to come up with for his dad had been an exasperated shrug.)

But as first period passed and lunch rolled around and the most he'd seen of Puck was the back of his mohawked head… Kurt realized something:

Puck was avoiding him.

And not _just_ avoiding him either.

No, Puck was actually going out of his way to stay away from Kurt.

At first, Kurt had thought he was just being paranoid. After all, they didn't have the same class schedules. So it made sense that they wouldn't be near one another every minute of the day. But when Kurt had seen Puck take one look at him and all but run in the opposite direction, he had_known_. There was just no other explanation for _why_ he hadn't seen Puck even in passing.

So for the rest of the day, Kurt went out of his way to try and Puck's attention. But the most he got was yelled at in their seventh period class for not paying attention. Afterward, when the teacher went back to her Power Point presentation, Kurt turned to look at Puck once more. But Puck's eyes were focused straight ahead, trained on the flashing colors of the presentation. Which was telling in and of itself, because Puck _never_ paid that kind of attention in class.

As the class went on, Kurt kept sneaking glances at Puck out of the corner of his eye. Kurt wanted to try and confront him after class but as soon as the last bell of the day rang, Puck jumped up and pushed his way out of the room. And watching him go, Kurt cursed himself for not having the foresight to gather up his books before class let out. Because based on Puck's earlier behavior, it should have been obvious that he would disappear the first chance he got.

Hastily grabbing his things, Kurt raced out of the room, ignoring Jacob Ben Israel's complaints about him being pushy. Once he stepped into the stream of milling students, Kurt began frantically searching the halls for any sign of Puck. Unfortunately though, everyone in the entire school seemed to be packed into that one hall, because he couldn't seem to move more than a foot at a time. To make matters worse, everyone seemed to look exactly the same. The only noticeable difference was that he could tell the boys from the girls. And Puck was nowhere to be seen.

Pushing his way through the crowd, Kurt made it to the main hallway just in time to see Puck slipping out the front door. And even though Kurt hadn't stopped by his locker to grab his coat and the books he needed in order to do his homework, he shoved his way through the throngs of students. Some of them shouted at him, while others retaliated with their elbows, but Kurt ignored them. He needed to get to Puck.

Once outside, Kurt ran straight to his Navigator, attempting to pull his keys out of his bags as he did. After a few fumbled attempts, he managed to extricate them but not without having to slow down a little bit first. The second Kurt got to his car he shoved the keys into the lock and wrenched the door open. His heart was pounding and his breath coming in short little gasps, but he didn't stop to breathe.

As he jumped inside, Kurt realized that he had no clue where Puck had parked that morning or if he was even still in the parking lot. For all he knew, Puck could have been the first off of the school's property and halfway home by now.

Kurt, however, wasn't about to give up that easily.

Turning the car's ignition with a little more force than was really necessary, Kurt began to frantically search the WMHS parking lot for any sign of Puck or his truck. Kurt was parked in the middle of the lot and had a pretty good view of the cars around him, but he couldn't find any sign of Puck amid the chaos. There were too many students jumping around and yelling to one another. It was like trying to find a couture garment at the local mall – impossible.

But just as he was about to give up hope, Kurt spotted Puck's peeling blue truck waiting in line to leave the parking lot. There were a couple of cars behind it already, but Kurt figured that if he was to jump in line now, he'd be able to follow Puck to wherever he was going. Kurt knew that following him wasn't much, but it was certainly a start.

With some of his anger turning into determination, Kurt carefully pulled out of his spot and moved towards the line of waiting cars as quickly as he could. Unfortunately though, another car managed to get there before him. Kurt tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his frustration waxing and his patience waning as he waited for them to move.

When it was Puck's turn to pull out of the parking lot, Kurt yelled in anger. _Of course_ Puck would get a head start. _Of course_ Kurt would be stuck in traffic. Heaven forbid he catch a break.

Slouching down in his seat, Kurt tried not to lose hope. And as he waited for the cars in front of him to get a move on, he watched Puck's truck. From what he could see, it drove down the street before making a left and disappearing from view.

The seconds quickly became minutes, and Kurt silently willed the cars in front of him to go. Then finally, after what seemed like forever, it was Kurt's turn to pull out. Heart pounding and convinced he'd lost Puck, Kurt drove in the same direction Puck had a few minutes ago and made the same left hand turn.

Rounding the corner, Kurt expected to see an empty street lined with little houses that all had perfect little fences. What he _didn't_ expect to see was Puck's truck parked there waiting for him. But as he pulled up behind the waiting vehicle, Puck turned on the motor and began to drive down the street.

Still irritated but also curious, Kurt followed him through the neighborhood, making two turns (a right and another left) as he did.

Once they were finally free of the rows of tiny houses, Puck pulled onto a street that seemed very familiar. (Though it wasn't one that he generally drove down himself.) It was lined with nondescript strip malls and led to the edge of town. He'd only been out this way a few times before, but he knew _exactly_ where Puck was heading.

Now that Kurt had some idea of his destination, he felt more… not comfortable but confident. That wasn't to say that he felt sure of himself or the situation at hand. But at least he knew that they'd be on familiar territory soon enough.

Kurt continued to follow Puck in silence for the next few minutes. The whole time he had to fight to keep his mind on the road and _not_ think about what Puck's problem could be. Because if he were to let his mind wander down that road, Kurt _knew_ he'd end up in an accident.

When the truck pulled up to the edge of the cornfield, Kurt pulled in next to him and parked. The Navigator's motor was barely off when Kurt yanked his keys out of the ignition and threw them onto the car's seat. And after hopping out of the car, Kurt stormed over to the driver's side of the truck.

When he saw Puck leaning against the peeling door, his arms crossed over his chest like nothing was wrong…

Kurt felt something inside of himself snap.

And as he stared at Puck standing there, looking put out, Kurt didn't even notice that it had begun to drizzle. He also didn't notice that he wasn't wearing his coat.

"What do you want, Hummel?" Puck's voice was cold, disinterested, but his eyes were resolute.

Without thinking, Kurt spat out the first thing that came to mind. "_Hummel_? We're back to _that_ now?"

"Yeah, well… It _is_ your name." Puck shrugged as if that solved everything.

"No, it isn't." At Kurt's proclamation, Puck raised one eyebrow in silent question. "You _know_ what I mean."

Puck just rolled his eyes as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Whatever, _dude_."

As Puck said the word "dude," Kurt clamped his mouth tightly shut. He knew Puck had chosen the offending word on purpose. And he wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it irritated him.

For a minute, Kurt stared at Puck, wondering what had happened between last night and today to cause _this_. The change was so unbelievable, and it was almost like the past month and a half hadn't happened at all.

Well, that wasn't _entirely_ true. A month and a half ago, Kurt knew Puck wouldn't have gone anywhere with him if his life depended on it. But still, it felt like they were back to square one nonetheless.

"What happened?" Kurt's voice softened a little as he studied the boy across from him. "Is this…." All of a sudden, something occurred to Kurt. "Is this because of last night? When I wouldn't let you keep… keep kissing me?"

In response, Puck snorted and rolled his eyes. But he didn't say anything else, which only upset Kurt more.

"Tell me what the problem is!" Kurt felt like stomping his foot in irritation, but he refused to stoop to such childish lows. "Tell me what's wrong!"

Again, Puck didn't answer. His mouth was set into a hard line, and his eyes were colder than before.

Kurt sucked in a ragged breath of cold air that burned his lungs. And for the first time since setting foot in the field, he realized that it was raining. But instead of just drizzling now, it was coming down in thick slushy gobs that couldn't seem to decide if they were rain or snow. Kurt could feel the freezing mixture sliding down the back of his sweater and matting his hair against his forehead. The freezing cold left him shivering and miserable, but he wasn't going to run away now.

As he began to shake, Puck continued to stare at him, only blinking occasionally. And when it became obvious that he still wasn't going to say anything, Kurt felt his temper flare again. "Tell me!"

"Why should I tell you anything?" Puck narrowed his eyes at Kurt, as if looking for a weak spot. "It's not like it matters." His tone was matter-of-fact, like he truly meant what he was saying.

But Kurt refused to believe that Puck was as unaffected as he was acting.

It just wasn't possible.

Not after everything.

"Of course it matters!" Kurt spat out the words, anger and desperation filling every syllable.

"Why?" It was such a simple question, one that shouldn't have even been asked. The reason should have been obvious to him. "_Why_ does it matter, Hummel?" Puck stared at Kurt, all but demanding as answer.

And rather than try to come up with some well thought out, reasonable explanation, Kurt just spoke, not realizing what he was saying. "Because I love you, that's why!"

As soon as the words were out, Kurt threw his hand over his mouth in complete horror. His eye widening in shock, he stood there staring at Puck as white hot tears began to slide down his cheeks to mix with the freezing rain.

A few weeks ago, Mercedes had asked Kurt if he was in love with Puck.

At the time, he'd said that he didn't now. But now that he'd said the words, Kurt wondered just how long he'd felt that way about Puck. Because up till that moment, Kurt hadn't realized just how true it was.

But now that it was out there, it seemed so obvious.

He was in love with Noah Puckerman.

He didn't know _how_ that had happened or when, but it had.

And to make matters worse, not only did Puck now know, but he also looked like he couldn't have cared less.

"You done?" Puck's words were like a slap in the face to Kurt. "Cause I got places to go."

Kurt blinked rapidly a few times as his mind tried to process what had just happened. Unfortunately though, his brain suddenly felt like it was trapped in a fog. "I… Yeah. I'm done."

"Good." Puck pushed himself away from his truck and pulled open the door. He hopped into the cab and drove off without a backward glance.

As the truck disappeared down the street, Kurt stood in the freezing rain, watching him go.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Kurt wasn't sure how long he stood out in the rain, watching the road Puck had disappeared down.

Realistically, Kurt knew that Puck wasn't going to have a sudden change of heart and come back to scoop him up in his arms. Sure, it would have been a _major_ relief after the conversation (he refused to call it a fight) they'd just had. But realistically, there was just no way that that was going to happen.

But he'd stood there watching the road anyway.

By the time Kurt had finally accepted that Puck was long gone and crawled back into the Navigator, he was soaked. His hair had become a sticky gelled mess, and the silk button down he had on under his sweater had been ruined. But as he turned the heat on full blast, Kurt wasn't able to care. Not because he was freezing, but because he felt numb from the inside out.

Barely realizing what he was doing, he drove back to William McKinley to grab his coat and books. However, when he pulled into the parking lot, he found it empty, save for one lonely car. But Kurt walked up to the school and pulled on the door anyway. Just like he'd expected though, it had already been locked for the day. And his coat and books had been locked inside.

After returning to his car, Kurt grabbed the steering wheel and pressed his forehead into it. The heat had begun to break through the chill in his body. But Kurt continued to shiver as the wheel bit into his skin anyway.

After a while, when the shaking had subsided some, Kurt drove home. The whole way his eyes burned with tears he refused to let fall. And even though it was a relatively short drive from the school to his house, it seemed like hours had passed before he finally pulled into his driveway.

As he trudged up the steps of the front porch, Kurt vaguely recalled seeing his dad's Jeep parked in the driveway. At first, he'd thought that it was too early for Burt to be home from work. But as Kurt pushed open the front door, he realized that it was almost completely dark out already. And as that hit him, Kurt wondered just how long he'd stayed in the field (or even the parking lot for that matter).

Kurt was no more than five feet inside the front door when his dad came walking out of the kitchen, a beer in hand.

"Whoa, what happened to you?" Burt took another few steps forward and looked Kurt up and down. "You look like a drowned rat."

Burt's words rang painfully through Kurt's head, making his ears burn in irritation. He knew he looked _awful_, and he _really_ didn't need that pointed out to him. Especially not at that moment.

In response, Kurt just glared at his father before stalking off in the direction of his bedroom for a long, _hot_ shower.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

As Kurt stood under the stream of steaming hot water, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He tried to tell himself that it was out of exasperation and not because he was trying to hold back a fresh wave of tears that was threatening to overtake him.

But he knew better.

The tears were there, had been since he'd stepped under the deluge of water.

As he took a deep breath, Kurt ran his hands through his hair, pushing his sopping bangs out of his face. The tension in his chest had subsided, and the back of his throat was no longer aching with the urge to cry. But even though that was gone, he still felt miserable. Because the feelings of horror and shock had followed him home as the scene in the field continued to play and replay itself in his mind.

However, the part that had stood out the most of course was when Kurt had told Puck he loved him. He still couldn't get over the fact that not only had he said it, but that he'd _meant_ it wholeheartedly.

He'd only told one other person that he loved them. And that was Finn. But when he'd said it to him… it had been disguised as the title of a ballad. Finn, of course, hadn't understood, and Kurt had been able to hide underneath the cloak that the title had created for him.

But today, with Puck, there'd been no clever little ploys to hide behind. It had come out in a moment of pure honesty.

And Puck had responded by looking at him as if it meant absolutely nothing.

It was an image that Kurt was pretty sure he'd never be able to forget.

That didn't mean he wouldn't try however.

Grabbing his favorite exfoliating loofah and organic cucumber scrub, Kurt began to wash away the remainders of the chill that had set into his bones and muscles.

And hopefully along with it, the sight of Puck's expressionless eyes that seemed to be seared into his memory.

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Kurt tossed and turned in his bed, alternating between throwing off his covers and pulling them back on. His dreams had been plagued by images of a weeping Quinn surrounded by gigantic crows that cawed and nipped at her bloodstained dress.

Finn and Rachel were there as well, shooting one another furtive glances as they sang nonsensical lines from random songs. Even Mercedes and Burt had made an appearance or two, waltzing through the whole mess with casserole dishes in their arms. But worst of all was that sitting in the middle of the scene was Puck's old truck with him perched on the hood like nothing mattered.

Kurt himself wasn't there; instead he was watching everything unfold, entranced by the awful display. But when Quinn shrieked in horror as a crow pulled at her beautiful blonde hair, Kurt jolted up, totally awake.

Wiping at the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, Kurt climbed out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. He didn't particularly want to get up, but he wasn't in a hurry to revisit his dreams either. So climbing out of bed for a few minutes seemed like the best solution.

After emptying his bladder and getting a drink of water, Kurt flipped off the light. He headed out of the bathroom, hoping that he'd be able to sleep peacefully now. But as he walked farther into the room, he found Puck standing at the bottom of the steps staring at him.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes**  
- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together."  
- **Important:** The final chapter will be posted next Friday. Not Thursday.  
- As always, thank you to everyone. I love and appreciate each and every one of your comments. Your support is amazing.  
- Quack: I'm so glad that you're my beta. You are amazing and I can't believe you put up with me. Thank you.  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


	33. Freak Me Out

**Put Me Back Together  
****Chapter 33: Freak Me Out**

"What…" Kurt took a few steps forward, unsure if Puck was really there or just a dream. "How did you… my dad went to bed hours ago."

"The key." Puck held up a small, shining gold key. "The one you keep -"

"Under the mailbox for emergencies." Kurt cursed himself mentally. He'd totally forgotten that when he'd told Artie where the spare key was, he was sitting with Puck at the hospital. And not only that, but Kurt had forgotten to have his dad find a new home for it after they'd gotten home that night.

Kurt was just about to ask Puck for the key back (and this time he would make sure it was moved) when something else occurred to him…

"But what about your truck? And the neighbors?" Mrs. Denton and her busy body ways quickly filled Kurt's mind.

"I parked a couple of blocks away." Puck moved a little farther into the room and placed the key on the arm of the couch. "And… you probably don't want to know the rest."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at Puck but didn't press the matter further. If Puck said he didn't want to know, then Kurt was going to take his word for it. And anyways, he didn't care.

Because now that he knew how Puck had gotten into his house, Kurt felt his anger and embarrassment from that afternoon come flooding back.

But before he could ask Puck just what he thought he was doing, something hit Kurt like a ton of bricks. Puck had snuck into his house.

He'd snuck into his house.

In the middle of the night.

And Kurt had no clue how long he'd been there or what he'd been doing. Swallowing deeply, Kurt tried to keep himself from fidgeting. "How long have you been here?"

"I just got here. You were in the bathroom when I…." Puck gestured towards the staircase. "When I got here."

Relief washing over him, Kurt nodded a little. He still didn't like that Puck had snuck into his house, but knowing that he'd just gotten there calmed Kurt down a bit. However, that didn't stop him from feeling suddenly exposed in his dark red, white, and black striped pajama set and bare feet. In an attempt to cover himself up, Kurt crossed his arms defensively over his chest. "Now that that's settled… Why are you here, Puck?"

The question seemed to hang in the air between them, creating a palpable tension that Kurt could barely stand. But Kurt wasn't about to break the silence. After all, not only had Puck broke into his house in the middle of the night, but he'd done it after breaking his heart that afternoon. So as far as Kurt was concerned, it was Puck's turn to put himself on the line.

Across from him, Puck's mouth was pressed into a hard line, and his eyes were narrowed. But somehow…

He didn't look angry.

He looked like he was trying to work through something in his head.

Something that was causing him a lot of inner turmoil.

But rather than being moved by the confusion on Puck's face, Kurt didn't drop his guard. Instead, he continued to stand there, arms crossed, staring at Puck.

How long they stood there staring at one another, Kurt couldn't tell. But eventually the look on Puck's face changed. It was slight, nothing more than an un-furrowing of eyebrows, but Kurt had seen it.

"I…." Puck sounded as if it had taken all the strength he possessed to utter that one syllable.

When Puck didn't say anything else, Kurt felt his own mouth press into an irritated line. "You…" The word was dripping with sarcasm, but Kurt was past caring.

He watched as Puck's face seemed to close back down again.

"This was a mistake." Puck dropped his arms to his sides hopelessly. "I'm gonna go." Puck turned and walked back towards the steps.

"What?" The word came out as a half question, half accusation, but Kurt couldn't believe what he was hearing.

And apparently neither could Puck, because he slowly turned and studied Kurt incredulously.

"What?" He paused for a moment. "Was there something you didn't understand about that?" Puck held up his hands in mock question. "Do I need to explain something to you more carefully?"

Kurt felt his face flush red hot in anger. He wanted to bite back with some scathing retort, but his mouth refused to work. It was as he'd become so angry that his jaw had clamped itself shut.

Irritated with his inability to speak, Kurt wrapped his arms more tightly around his body.

"Well, look at that…." Puck dropped his hands and smiled sarcastically. "Kurt Hummel speechless. What a sight."

Kurt ground his teeth together, still unable to come up with the right thing to say. He wished that Puck would just turn around and leave like he was going to. Because this, the fighting, the bouncing back and forth, it was wearing him out.

No, it wasn't wearing him out. He was worn out. And Kurt couldn't take it anymore.

But of course, Puck didn't leave. Instead, he stood there staring at him.

"Why do you have to make this harder than it is?" Puck took a few steps forward. And the closer he got, the more worn out he looked. "Isn't it hard enough?"

"You haven't exactly made this easy yourself, you know?" Kurt was surprised to find that his voice was barely above a whisper. And as he waited for Puck to say something, anything, he rubbed his arms. He told himself that it was because he'd never really gotten warm after leaving the field, but Kurt knew he was trying to comfort himself.

Instead of speaking right away, Puck dropped his head and nodded a little. "I know. I just…" He lifted his head and looked towards the ceiling. "You really freak me out."

"I… What?" Kurt stopped rubbing his arms and held himself again. Of all the things Puck could have said, Kurt never once thought it would be anything like that. And to be honest, he didn't understand what Puck meant.

Puck took another step forward, looking Kurt directly in the eyes. "I'm so afraid of you."

"You're afraid of me?" Even as the words came out of his mouth, Kurt could barely believe what he was saying. How could Puck possibly be scared of him? Sure, he appeared nervous at times, but for the most part, Puck always seemed so sure of himself. And because of that, there was only one explanation he could think of…

"Is…" Kurt took a few steps backward, needing to put some more distance between himself and Puck. He hadn't even said the words, and he already hated them. "Is this some kind of big gay freak out thing?"

"No." Puck didn't hesitate to answer. And that one word, spoken with such vehemence, convinced Kurt that Puck wasn't lying.

"I mean, yeah, ok, at first…." When Kurt's eyes widened in shock, Puck took another step towards him. "But that was a long time ago. Like, before your party. And I got over it pretty quickly." Puck smiled just a little, but it didn't help Kurt feel better.

For a few seconds, Kurt stood there, feeling totally stunned. There was so much to say, so much that needed to be said, but he couldn't seem to remember any of it. Puck's confession had rendered him completely speechless. (And not in an angry way like before either.) Never once, since Puck had kissed him at Sectionals, had Kurt considered Puck's sexuality. And now, he realized that he'd taken it for granted.

Kurt had just assumed that since Puck hadn't turned around and retaliated somehow after their kiss that he was totally fine with it. And therefore, that he was into guys as well as girls.

But now, with it staring him in the face, Kurt not only felt stupid, but he felt embarrassed and exposed.

Keeping his eyes on Puck, Kurt took a couple of more steps backwards. "Was I… was I some kind of experiment then?" Kurt swallowed deeply, terrified of what he was saying and of what he might hear in return. "I mean, you said you'd only kissed me because -"

"No!" Puck shouted, obviously irritated with Kurt. "Yes, that first kiss…." He paused, his chest heaving in anger. They'd been down this conversational road before, and the results had been disastrous. Kurt could tell that Puck was trying to get away from that topic as best he could. "But everything after…." Puck's voice trailed off as if he couldn't bring himself to say the words.

Kurt watched as Puck picked up his foot to take another step forward. But when Kurt's body tensed in response, Puck set his foot back down. "Look, at first, I was freaked out, but -"

"Kurt?" Burt's sleepy voice echoed down the steps, causing Kurt to jump. If his dad knew that Puck was in his room in the middle of the night… well, Kurt didn't really know what Burt would do. But he knew it wouldn't get good.

For any of them.

"I heard a noise down there. Everything ok?"

"I…." Kurt looked up at the ceiling frantically as if he could see his dad through it. When he finally decided that he couldn't see through the floor, Kurt looked back at Puck. "Yeah, I got up to go to the bathroom."

"I heard a yell." Burt sounded confused.

"I know…." Kurt gave Puck a dirty look as he tried to come up with an explanation. "I stubbed my toe. It's dark down here." Kurt prayed that his dad couldn't see the light from the bathroom or the lamp he'd turned on when he'd gotten up. Kurt wasn't sure just how far the light carried.

For a painfully long minute, there was nothing but silence, and Kurt was terrified that his dad would come downstairs.

When Burt finally spoke, Kurt let out a long breath he hadn't realized he been holding. "You ok?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Kurt fought to keep the relief out of his voice. Across from him, Puck was smiling softly.

"Ok, well…." Burt's voice trailed off in a yawn. "Get back to bed. It's late."

"I know. I will." Relief coursing though his body, Kurt felt like relaxing his arms. But when he thought of Puck still staring at him, the desire faded. Kurt dropped his eyes to the floor, wishing that Puck would look anywhere but at him.

As Burt's footsteps moved around upstairs, Kurt and Puck stood in silence. From the location of the sounds above him, Kurt could tell that his dad was rummaging around in the kitchen. Just knowing that his dad was still awake and moving around the house bothered Kurt. Simply because there was no telling what Puck was going to do or how he would react.

"Look…" When Puck spoke, his voice was just above a whisper. For some reason, the fact that Puck had lowered his tone helped Kurt relax a little. Granted, Kurt knew that it was, because Puck didn't want to get caught either. But it was touching anyway.

However, it wasn't enough to make Kurt lift his head. "Kurt, look at me." Puck was still whispering, but he sounded upset. "Kurt, please."

At the sound of the word "please," Kurt lifted his head tentatively. "Ok." Puck raised one of his hands like he hoped it would help. "When I was all freaked out about everything, I tried checking out other dudes. Like… Mike and Matt and even Mr. Sch-"

"Stop." Kurt put as much strength into that one whispered word as he possibly could. Hearing that Puck had tried to check out other boys, as if to compare… Kurt didn't know if he should be flattered or offended. But either way, Kurt did not want to hear about Puck checking out Mr. Schuester. No way. No how.

Thankfully Puck listened and stopped speaking, but there was a familiar look of mischief in his eyes. "Hey, have you ever checked out Schue's-"

"This reallyisn't the time." Kurt felt his irritating slowly seeping back in. "Tell me, what exactly did you figure out when you were checking out the entire school."

Instantly, the twinkle left Puck's eyes, and he became serious once again. "I wasn't checking out the whole school." Puck dropped his outstretched hand. "And what I figured out was that… was that…." The words faded away again.

Puck's eyes locked on Kurt's with such seriousness and intensity that Kurt felt every muscle in his body freeze up. He didn't know what Puck was trying to say, but the way his eyes had become so focused… the way he seemed to be fighting for his words… Kurt knew what was coming, and it made his flesh crawl.

"Don't you dare tell me you love me. Not now. Not after today."

Kurt's whispered growl seemed to hang in the air between them, highlighting just how much they'd gone through together. The silence was so heavy and painful that Kurt could barely stand it. But he knew that if Puck were to have said he loved him, that that would have been it.

Blinking slowly and purposely, Puck sighed deeply. And instead of saying anything, he ran his hands over his hair. As Kurt waited for him to speak, he felt his heart begin to thud painfully in his chest.

This was it.

Their moment.

And it would make or break them.

"I realized that…" Puck rubbed at the base of his skull. "That I don't… I'm not…." He dropped his hand to his side. "That things aren't right when you're not around. I'm not all right when you aren't around."

When Puck's words sunk in, Kurt felt his mouth fall open slightly.

"I mean…" Puck dropped his head back and looked up at the ceiling as if it was hard for him to say whatever was on his mind. "I loved Quinn. I really did. And I tried for her. But we don't… and she's not you… and…."

"But then why?" The words were out of Kurt's mouth before he could stop them. "Why did you…." Kurt fought to find the right words. "Today…."

Puck turned away from Kurt and walked over to the couch. Kurt watched as he dropped down onto the soft cushion. And even though Kurt wanted to stay near the safety of the bathroom doorway, he needed to see Puck's face when he responded. Tentatively, he padded across the room to stand in front of Puck.

"I'm sorry." Puck looked up at him, his eyes full of sadness and anger.

The apology, so simple, broke Kurt's heart.

"I've never felt this way, not even about Quinn." Puck looked up at him, his eyes pleading. "I told you… you terrify me." He said it with a small laugh that didn't quite meet his eyes.

At a loss for what to say, Kurt reached out and placed his hand on Puck's cheek. In response Puck's eyes fell shut as he turned into the touch.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Kurt watched in fascination as Puck's chest rose and fell with his labored breaths. Puck had laid the truth out there before him, and he looked absolutely exhausted because of it.

And now, it was Kurt's turn.

Kurt knew he needed to say something, but he just didn't know how he could do justice to what Puck had just confessed to him. Because of all the possible explanations he'd come up with for Puck's behavior, this was not one of them.

When he finally did think of something though, Kurt took a deep breath. "I can't keep doing this, Noah." It didn't really address anything Puck had said, but Kurt knew he'd said the right thing.

Slowly, Puck opened his eyes and looked up at Kurt, his face an open book. "I know."

Kurt pressed his lips together and nodded. Slowly, he reached out his other free hand and placed it on the other side of Puck's face. And very gently, he tiled Puck's face up just a little more. Puck didn't resist or try to pull away; instead he kept his eyes locked on Kurt's. When Kurt could no longer stand it, he let his eye life fall shut as he gently pressed his lips into Puck's forehead.

He let the soft kiss linger, relishing the feel of Puck's warm skin against his own. But after a moment he pulled back. And still holding Puck's face between his hands, Kurt looked directly into his eyes, feeling as if he could see straight into his soul.

After taking a deep breath, he said, "If we're going to do this, we're going to do this, ok?" Kurt's voice was completely serious. "No more Finn…" He'd gotten over Finn long ago, but Kurt wanted Puck to understand exactly what he was saying. "No more Quinn." Kurt pressed his lips together as a tiny breath hitched in his throat. "Just us."

Puck slowly reached out and slid his hands around Kurt's back. The touch was gentle, tentative, almost as if he couldn't quite believe what he was doing. And though Kurt wanted an answer to what he'd just said, he was also content to feel for a moment.

However, when Puck tried to pull Kurt down onto his lap, Kurt held his ground. "No, Noah." Gently but firmly, he gave Puck's face a little squeeze. "You need to answer me first."

Kurt swallowed. Deep down, he already knew the answer to the question, but he was still afraid to ask for it. "So, are we going to do this or not?"

Puck didn't wait or pause or even think before answering. Instead, he just smiled a bit before responding. "Yeah, we are."

Kurt didn't know why, but even though he'd gotten the response he wanted, he still wasn't jumping for joy. "It's not going to be easy."

At Kurt's proclamation, Puck's eyed widened in mock shock. "Cause it's been a walk in the park so far?" Relaxing his face, Puck pulled at Kurt's waist again. This time, Kurt didn't resist.

"That's not what I meant." Rather than sit on Puck's lap, Kurt angled himself so that he was on the cushion. And despite the look of disappointment on Puck's face, Kurt curled his legs up underneath himself.

"I know what you meant, Kurt." Puck wrapped one of his arms around Kurt's shoulders and the other over his waist. And very gently, Puck pulled Kurt as close as he possible could (without pulling him onto his lap). "We'll deal with… whatever as it comes."

Kurt nodded his head and leaned into Puck's side. Thinking about what Puck had said, he hoped that Puck was right. And he also hoped that they would be able to deal with anything and everything that came their way. Because Kurt was sure that there would be plenty to bumps in the road for them.

But before he could say that, he felt Puck lay his cheek on the top his head, and all of his worry disappeared. "We'll be fine, Kurt." Puck's voice was a low whisper that ruffled Kurt's hair.

"Promise?" The word came out low and sleepy. For the first time since Puck had arrived, Kurt realized just how sleepy he really was. It was as if all of the excitement and stress and happiness and heartache had just caught up to him and he was exhausted.

"Promise." Unsurprisingly, Puck sounded just as tired. And when he scooted down into the couch, pulling Kurt more closely to him, Kurt didn't object. He was warm and comfortable, but most of all…

He was happy.

**Squeeka Cuomo's Notes  
**- The title and opening quote for this fic come from the beautiful Weezer song, "Put Me Back Together." You can find it here.  
- This chapter was inspired by the beautiful Weezer song "Freak Me Out." You can find it here.  
- So… this is it. The end. The very end. And I am just… Beyond amazed by all of the love and support you've given me. Whether you've reviewed one chapter or all - or even if you've just read… Thank you. Thank you SO much. This has been an incredible journey and I want all of you to know just how much I appreciate your taking it with me. You've been awesome and you've all made this experience that much more amazing. Ducks and kisses.  
- Quack: I don't really know how to thank you properly. You are such an amazing person and awesome friend. And I wouldn't want to have anyone else as my beta. You're comments and suggestions are invaluable and you've helped to make this process even more enjoyable. So thank you. Can we go to France, Italy now?  
- **Disclaimer:** Not mine.  
- Reviews are love.


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